


king of my heart

by tunastorks



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:13:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 95,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tunastorks/pseuds/tunastorks
Summary: Henry's a prince and Alex is a manservant- still, they find a way to make their relationship work. That is, until a terrible attack on Henry's life, after which Alex chooses to flee. When they meet again, years later, will they be able to rekindle their romance?Fic is completed and will be updated every other day!
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 141
Kudos: 119





	1. Chapter 1

"Henry, I know you can put on your own armor." Alex sighed fondly, though he stepped forward  
to begin strapping on the chest piece anyway.

They were in Henry's bedchamber. It was Henry's eighteenth birthday, and as such, he had a competition this afternoon to prove his worth as heir to the throne and officially accept the title of prince. He would have no trouble, Alex was certain; Henry was an incredibly talented swordfighter. They'd even sparred themselves a few times, though Alex was both scrawny and uncoordinated and had never stood a chance. Still. They'd had fun.

They'd known each other since they were children. Alex's mother had worked as a maid in the castle, and after his father's death she'd had to start bringing him to work. He'd wandered off within the first few moments of the first day, and bumped into a boy around his age with blonde hair and a shy smile. Without so much as pausing, the boy had grabbed his wrist and yanked him along with a shout of keep up, or Pez's gonna get us! They'd been running around together  
ever since.

Pez, Beatrice and Phillip, children of King Arthur’s court members, were a part of their close- knit group, but it was Alex and Henry who became inseparable. It was Alex Henry turned to at every pass, Alex he told everything, Alex he relied on. They'd been best friends since they were. five years old, and when Alex's mother passed when he was twelve, it was Henry's shoulder he cried on. It was Henry who found a solution, who demanded to his father that Alex be made his manservant so Alex would have a place to live at the castle. As they'd grown, Alex had seen Henry take on every knight in the kingdom at one point or another—he was indeed a wonderful fighter, but he'd make an even better king someday.

"And deprive you of the pleasure?" Henry smirked, curling a hand around the back of Alex's neck.

"The pleasure," Alex murmured, leaning into the touch, "Was stripping you out of it."

They'd begun seeing each other on Henry's sixteenth birthday, when Alex had asked Henry what he wanted and Henry had grabbed him by the shirt and kissed him hard enough to bruise. It was treason, of course—Henry was to be king. He was to wed a woman, produce heirs, and rule over the country with someone strong and capable at his side. Alex could provide none of those things.

He was a scrawny orphan of a poor bloodline, with little past and less of a future. He had no place in Henry's life but as his friend and servant. Their courtship was dangerous to Henry's future as king, and a secret so forbidden they couldn't even tell their friends.

Which had done nothing at all to stop Alex from kissing Henry back with fervor.

"Would you prefer I found someone else to assist me?" Henry arched a teasing eyebrow.

"I'd kill the man who tried to take my place." Alex kissed him sweetly.

Henry hummed happily into it, hands warm against Alex's neck. After a moment, he began to  
unbuckle his chest piece, and Alex laughed against his lips. He smacked Henry's shoulder in  
reprimand.

"The competition's in half an hour, stop undoing my progress."

"Oh, but I'm so sick." Henry faked a cough. "Deathly ill. Don't think I can make it."

"Well, if you're sick, I suppose I ought to leave you alone, let you rest up and get better..." Alex  
stepped back, playing along.

"Bed rest is very important." Henry caught him by the belt, tugged him closer. "But I'll need  
someone to keep me warm while I recover, and I know just the man."

"Go to your competition." Alex gave him a quick peck, going to pick up the belt for Henry's  
scabbard off the table.

"For to the victor go the spoils?" Henry waggled his eyebrows, giving Alex's backside a lingering, purposeful look.

"You know full well you'll get your 'spoils' win or lose," Alex corrected with a fond roll of his eyes. He stepped back over, tugging Henry to him. He looped the belt around Henry's waist, fastening it tight and kissing him softly when he'd finished. Eventually, he pulled back to grin.  
"But do try and win."

Once Henry was suited up and ready for the competition, Alex gave him one last good luck kiss  
before they headed out of Henry's chambers and into the hallway. Pez joined them along the  
way, clapping a hand to Henry's shoulder.

"Happy birthday, my liege."

"Oh, forget the formalities." Henry waved a hand at him. "Ready to get your ass handed to you?"

"Save it." Pez rolled his eyes with a grin. "Birthday or not you're going to have to fight for  
that title of yours, Fox."

"Like I couldn't take you any day of the week." Henry snorted.

Henry and Pez had been sparring regularly since they were children; Henry was better, but  
Pez was the only one besides King Arthur who could give Henry a real run for his money.  
They turned down the hall, exiting the castle and heading out into the courtyard. When they  
entered the arena, the crowd erupted into cheers—Henry was beloved by his people. Once they  
began to die down, King Arthur raised a hand, called for silence.

"Henry." The King greeted with a nod of his head. "Percy."

Alex didn't merit an address from the King. He melted back as he was supposed to, leaving  
Henry's side and moving away to the healing tent. He watched from there as King Arthur made  
his opening speech and paired the knights off. Henry was clearly impatient for his fight, though to anyone but Alex it would hardly be noticeable. He was good at masking things like that, after  
eighteen years of practice, but Alex had had nearly as long to figure him out. Once Henry's first match ended, Alex waved him over. Henry shook his head. Alex shot him a hard look. Henry made a face, but complied.

"How in the hell do you get him to listen to you?" Pez marveled beside him.

"Oh, he doesn't listen to me," Alex dismissed it, "He's just doing what he's supposed to."

"Because Henry's so well known for doing what he's supposed to." Pez rolled his eyes with a wry smile. "It has nothing at all to do with heeding to your call like a wayward dog."

"I'm here, I'm here." Henry approached them before Alex could reply to Pez, taking Alex by the arm and leading him into the tent with a grouchy, "Well, come on you mother hen, hurry up,

I've got another match soon."

Alex put Pez's comment out of his mind and tended to Henry's wounds. He'd done well in his first match and had no more bruises and scrapes than usual, nothing serious. Alex made him sit down anyway, wet a rag to clean him up with.

"Aw, leave it," Henry complained, "It makes me look tough."

"Hush," Alex just told him, dabbing the blood off his forehead.

Once he'd finished, he sent Henry off with a discrete squeeze of the shoulder for good luck. The rest of the fights went much the same, Henry refusing to come over until Alex insisted, but that was par for the course. It was only in the final fight that Henry sustained serious injury, a deep gash to his side. Alex felt the usual urge to go to Henry's side at once, help him walk to the tent, but restrained himself. It wasn't his place and even if it had been it would have made Henry look weak to the crowd he was supposed to be proving his worth to. None of that made Alex feel any better, of course, and the minute Henry entered the tent Alex gripped his shoulder tightly and forced him into a chair.

"Alex—" Henry started, but Alex shook his head sharply.

One of the healers moved forward to take over and Henry waved them away. Alex cleaned the gash out and bandaged him in silence, his hands lingering over the bloodied skin worriedly. He was careful in washing the blood off, trying to minimize any pain Henry felt from having the wound prodded at. After roughly ten minutes or so everyone was called to the arena for the victor's ceremony and the tent began to empty. Henry moved purposefully slow. When the last of the others left and they had the tent to themselves for a moment, Henry lowered his voice.

"I'm alright, darling. I can take a hit."

"I know," Alex answered, "Not my favorite thing to watch, but. I know."

Henry smiled, took his hand. "Any last words before I officially become your prince?"

They couldn't kiss here—couldn't kiss anywhere that wasn't Henry's bedchamber with the door bolted, it was far too risky—but they could speak candidly without being overheard, if they were careful and quiet.

"You've always been my prince." Alex placed his other hand over Henry's.

"I'm terrified," Henry admitted softly.

"You're going to be wonderful," Alex told him earnestly, "And someday, you're going to be the best king this world's ever seen. I believe that with all my heart, Henry."

Henry couldn't quite manage to hide the fragility of his smile. He leaned closer, resting his forehead against Alex's chest. He took a deep breath. Alex could feel the shakiness of his exhale. Alex raised his hands to Henry's hair, ran them through it soothingly. Henry embraced him fully, clutching to him tightly for a long moment before releasing him to stand, separate. They couldn't stay that way any longer, someone was bound to come to retrieve Henry any minute now.

"I love you." Henry squeezed his hand once before letting go. "Happy two years."

"And I you." Alex smiled. "Happy two years."

The ceremony was long, and the celebration even longer; it was past nightfall when it ended. It was a glorious party and a delicious feast, and Henry had the time of his life, nerves apparently forgotten. By the end of it all, Henry was worn so thin he looked about ready to collapse into his food. Once they finally made it back to Henry's chambers, Alex expected a brief kiss goodnight and to be on his way so Henry could sleep it off. Instead, Henry pulled Alex into the room, shrugging out of his clothes and slipping off his shoes as he went, before falling right into bed and dragging Alex in after him by the wrist.

"Henry, I—"

"Just a few minutes." Henry was already curling up against Alex's chest like a cat, closing his eyes with a tired exhale.

"You know I can't stay."

It was all too likely someone would try and enter the chamber before one or both of them woke, and leave them with far too much explaining to do. Alex had only ever stayed the night once, their first time, when they'd been too tired afterwards and fallen asleep before either of them could consider the consequences. King Arthur had come to retrieve Henry in the morning, and it waspurely a miracle that the sound of the key unlocking the door had woken Alex in time for him to  
roll off the bed and hide underneath. They hadn't dared try again.

"I know, I just..." Henry opened his eyes again, his voice soft and small. Henry could ask him to walk off a cliff in that voice and Alex wouldn't hesitate. "I need you here, tonight. Just until I fall asleep. Please."

Future kings were taught not to say please; it displayed weakness. Utterances during their nights together aside, Alex could count on one hand the times he'd heard Henry say please and genuinely mean it. He was fairly certain he was the only person Henry had ever even said it to. He settled his arms around Henry in answer, pulling him closer and getting comfortable. Henry breathed an audible sigh of relief, of gratitude, before closing his eyes. He didn't open them again, his breathing evening out within moments. He must've been truly exhausted. Alex stayed long past when he could've left, reveling in the part of Henry that belonged so purely to him.

He'd been considering getting up when he heard someone try the door.

Alex couldn't be certain of the exact time, but he knew it was far beyond the time anyone should  
be awake and entering Henry's chambers. He roused Henry quickly and quietly, holding a finger to his lips. Henry nodded drowsily, then came to full attention as he heard the rattle of the knob as well. No one ought to be entering Henry's chambers this late to begin with, but the fact that they didn't seem to have a key made it all the more unnerving. As Alex slid off the bed and darted towards the table, he heard the sound of a key finally slotting into place. He quickly slipped into  
the shadows, his back against a wall; the room was dark enough that the intruder wouldn't see him  
coming, at least.

"Phil?" Henry's confused voice called. Alex wasn't at the right angle to see well enough to tell, but Henry could probably see by the light of the hallway. "It's the middle of the night."

"Yet you're awake." That was definitely the voice of King Arthur's first son, Phillip.

He had been a bit closed off after getting passed over for the throne, but Henry still saw him as family. Alex thought he was a snake. "Pity, that."

"What are you talking about?" Henry still sounded dazed.

"Let's not clutter this with smalltalk." Phillip advanced across the room with purpose. Alex  
caught the glitter of a knife in his hand and stepped out of the shadows before Phillip could get any farther.  
"Back off," Alex growled.

"Have I ever mentioned how impossible your manservant is to separate from you?" Phillip sneered to Henry over Alex's shoulder. "I've tried before, but he's like a damn dog with a bone. I think he's got a bit of a crush on you."

"What are you—?" Henry began.

"Save it." Phillip sneered, then attacked.

Alex wasn't exactly well-trained, but he'd hoped he could at least manage to fend Phillip off long enough for Henry to get to his sword. Phillip was the King's advisor though, was skilled and had far more experience than Alex did—three quick moves and the handle end of the knife struck Alex's skull. He blacked out immediately.

When Alex woke, he was in the royal infirmary.

He'd been there a handful of times before—Henry was quite danger prone, no matter how much Alex tried to watch out for him—but never for his own injuries. He raised a hand to his throbbing head and felt dried blood. He looked around quickly, heart racing, before he spotted Henry just two beds over. He stood, sluggish—he must've been medicated—but determined, forcing his limbs to move towards Henry. He collapsed into a kneel at Henry's bedside, close enough now to take Henry's wrist.

He felt for a pulse and his very bones ached with relief when he found it, beating slowly but steadily. Henry was topless and bandaged heavily around the chest. Blood had still seeped through, but it looked old so Alex didn't think he was still bleeding. It was an horribly unsettling sight regardless. Henry had a long nick along his arm as well, though thankfully nothing else. Alex leaned forward, resting his head against Henry's side and giving a shaky, relieved exhale. His breath against Henry's skin made Henry stir; Alex raised his head and hand, stroking Henry's hair back soothingly.

"Sleep," he murmured. Henry settled again.

Alex left only briefly to use the chamberpot, but when he returned Henry was awake, sitting up and, predictably, making a scene. The healer was present too, shaking her head and trying to get Henry to lie back down. Alex assumed it was because Henry wanted out of the infirmary. He was wrong.

"—I don't know, I swear to you he was here a moment ago, but you must lie down my lord, you'll  
tear your wound open again—"

"Stop bothering with me and find him!" Henry ignored her completely, thrashing worse. "If he's been hurt by your negligence, I swear, I'll have you beheaded so fast it'll make your head spin right off of it's own accord—"

"That seems rather harsh." Alex stepped into the room, trying valiantly to hide a fond smile that Henry would worry over such a brief absence.

"Where in the hell have you been?" Henry demanded, but the relief was painfully visible on his face. Alex felt guilty for being pleased. "I thought Phil—Phillip, I mean, he hit you, and you didn't wake up, and I saw a healer take you away last night but you weren't here when I woke up, and I, I thought..."

"I'm fine, my liege." Alex nodded his head, crossing the room. "Just left for a moment. Lie back down and stop giving the healer trouble for once, would you?"

"I thought you dead." Henry grit his teeth hard, overcompensating with anger to hide the fear in his voice.

"I assure you, I'm fine." Alex took a seat on the bed next to Henry's, opposite the healer.

"Knocked around a bit, that's all."

"'Knocked around a bit', he says." Henry scowled. "The man was bludgeoned across the skull, and he wonders why I worry."

"What happened to him?" Alex directed his question to the healer. Henry would only give him half-truths and a bluster of 'I'm fine's.  
"Lord Phillip stabbed him in the chest." Alex liked the healer. No nonsense. Didn't even pause when Alex stopped breathing at her words, very professional.  
"Not deep, Prince Henry killed him before he could, but it's deep enough that he's going to be on bed rest for a few weeks."

"And what am I supposed to do in here for weeks, hm?" Henry demanded, "Lay about? Do paperwork? I'll be fine within a day or two, surely—"

"Surely not," Alex insisted to him firmly, then thanked the healer, who stood to leave. "I'll watch over him now, ma'am. Thank you."

"Why do I even have a manservant?" Henry complained, "One more person telling me what to do all the damn time."

"As if you've ever listened to anyone else." The healer snorted on her way out.

There was a brief moment of silence after the door shut, before Henry's front of peeved distress broke, softened to relief. He smiled up at Alex tenderly.

"I don't think we're quite as subtle as we think we are."

"Perhaps not," Alex admitted, stroking a hand over his cheek.

"Beatrice knows." Henry sighed. "Of course she does, Beatrice knows everything. But. She came to me about it yesterday. Something about the fondness of my tone gave me away, apparently."

"And?"

"And Beatrice may know everything, but that doesn't mean she's always right."

"I'm not sure that makes as much sense as you think it does."

"I love you, Alex." Henry rolled onto his side a bit to take Alex's hand, clasp it tightly. "You belong to me, and I to you. I won't give you up."

"What did Beatrice say, exactly?"

"Nothing of import." Henry huffed. "Duty. Betrothal. Heirs. Other such boring matters."

"Your future, you mean."

"My prison."

"Don't be so ungrateful." Alex glanced around the thankfully empty room, then pressed a kiss to Henry's temple to soften his words. "You've been gifted, Henry. You have great power, and the wisdom and judgment to use it to it's full potential."

"I'm not arguing. I would like very much to be king one day; I'd like it more with you by my  
side."

"That's not possible."

"Men find their happiness with other men in my kingdom all the time, should their king not be  
allowed to do the same?"

"Not when he must produce an heir."

"So my second-cousin's child will take the throne after me." Henry sat up, pulled Alex's hands closer. "What do I care who follows me? They originate from the same line, they will rule just as well as any child of mine—"

"The Mountchristian-Windsor line has ruled for centuries, and with reason. You all rule wisely, with sure judgment and fair, intelligent minds. You can't damage the future of an entire kingdom for one man."

"Two men," Henry corrected insistently, a touch wistfully, "I want to be happy, Alex. My cousin is related, his line is just as noble—"

"It's not, and you know that."

"Marry me."

"I won't."

"Another life, another world—would you?" Henry demanded desperately, "Were it just you and me, would—"

"I'd accept your hand in a heartbeat, of course I would. You know that I would." Alex clasped Henry's hands in his tightly. "But that's not the world we live in."

"It could be."

"It's not right, Henry." Alex shook his head. "To run away from your responsibilities, your kingdom? I won't let you."

Guilt began to worm it's way into Alex's heart. He'd never begrudged Henry his destiny, not when Henry so thoroughly deserved it, but Alex had always assumed he could at least stay Henry's friend, his manservant if nothing else. What use was he if he couldn't even provide a proper distraction? Not yet a king, and Henry was already a target. He would only become more so in time, and he would need a manservant who could actually provide him with safety, with protection. It was his fault Henry was in this condition. If he'd have grabbed the sword—no. He knew nothing about how to wield a sword. He still would've been bested, Henry still would've been injured. Henry was everything he had, and Alex couldn't even keep him safe. What use was he to Henry like this?

And Alex knew Henry would let his weakness for Alex guide his decision. Henry had always let his weakness for Alex guide his decisions, proposing to him being a prime example. Henry would keep him on forever, and what if there was another attack? Another time Alex was helpless, and Henry died for it? No. Henry needed someone useful to be his guardian, and if Alex ever wanted a chance to be that, he needed to become more than he was now.

He waited until Henry fell asleep again. He glanced around to assure they were alone, then pressed a kiss to Henry's forehead before exiting the infirmary. He headed to his chambers, searching for a quill and some parchment. When he found it, he sat at his desk, dipped the tip of the quill in the ink, and began to write.

My dearest Henry,  
First and foremost, I apologize. I failed you. It has become clear to me that I cannot protect you  
as I am now, and you deserve more than I can provide. Much as I love you, you must do what is  
right for your kingdom. You will marry someone else one day, and if you treat her with half as  
much love as you did me, she will be the luckiest woman alive. If I am to have a place in your  
future, it will be as your manservant and guardian; I cannot be that to you if I cannot protect you.  
I wish many things, but most of all, I wish to stay by your side. Unfortunately, to do so, I must  
leave it for a time. I am leaving to train, to become as strong as you need me to be. When I can  
protect you as you deserve, I will return to you. This I promise.  
I love you with all that I am.  
Alex Claremont-Diaz

He folded the note up and tucked it within an envelope, writing Henry's full name on the front. He returned to the infirmary shortly, sat by Henry's side to tuck the note into Henry's shirt pocket. He stayed there a little longer, perhaps longer than he should have, saying his quiet goodbyes. He stoked Henry's hair back, and had a brief moment of doubt—then Henry stirred, made a distressed gasping noise that was clearly pain. His wound must've begun to ache again in his sleep.

This was Alex's fault, and staying would only give Phillip and men like him a better opening at Henry. Leaving would open a space in Henry's life to be filled by someone stronger, more capable, until Alex was strong and capable enough to retake it himself.

It would only be a few years. Then, they could have the rest of their lives.


	2. Chapter 2

Ten Years Later  
Henry recognized him immediately.

He'd gained at least a hundred pounds of muscle and a couple feet in height, but Henry would recognize the eyes that still haunted his dreams anywhere. He rode into the arena on a dark horse, covered in a knight's armor but without a helmet. Their eyes met across the field briefly and though he glanced away immediately, heading for the stables to dock his horse, Henry knew. Alex had returned to him.

"Something wrong?" Beatrice, two seats away, leaned in to ask. She must've caught the troubled look on Henry's face.

"It's nothing," Henry dismissed.

"As you say, my liege,"she responded, clearly unconvinced.

Once his cousin, Beatrice was now his court mage, but more importantly one of his closest friends; in private, there were no pretenses of 'my liege' between them. However, they were presiding over the knight's arena at the moment, where any number of other court members or commoners could hear them and Beatrice knew that in public she had to show her respect. She'd wring a real answer out of Henry later, certainly.

In the meantime, Henry waited for Alex to exit the stables. When he finally did, Henry stared at him pointedly, imploring him to look up again. He didn't. He walked straightaway to the sign-in table, where he checked in with all the others. He didn't seem to know anyone and didn't make much small talk, just ambled about and waited for the competition to begin.  
Henry never took his eyes off him. Alex never looked anywhere even close to his direction.

"Daddy?"

Henry tore his eyes from Alex to answer his son.

"Yes, Peter?"

"When's it gonna start?" Peter fidgeted.

He was seven as of a month ago, and this would be his first time watching a knight's competition. He knew all of the kingdom’s knights, of course, they adored him and he them, but he'd been too young at the last one for Henry to bring him. Now, he sat in his chair at Henry's side, squirming eagerly.

"Soon." Henry pointed at the sign-in table. "See there? The last of the candidates are signing in. What happens then?"

"They..." Peter scrunched up his nose in thought, trying hard to remember. "Wave the flag?"

"That's right. They'll wave the flag at me and I'll—" Henry stopped himself; they were waving the flag as he spoke. "—I'll do this."

He stood, raised both hands; a hush fell over the crowd. He rattled off his usual speech, about the glory of battle and the honor of knighthood, about how pleased he was to see so many fine candidates this year. As always, he wished them no luck—a knight needs not luck, but skill. Alex still didn't look at him.

Once he'd finished, his current roster of knights stepped into the circle. Cheers erupted and they waved in greeting. Shaan, Henry's head knight, made a similar speech, about how he would be watching each candidate carefully and that who would be chosen to join Midgard's knights would be determined by more than who won and who lost, but by what potential they displayed in the arena. However, he commented wryly, it certainly wouldn't hurt their chances to defeat a current  
knight.

The competition got underway and Peter nearly bounced out of his seat with excitement. As each fight became more intense, he leaned further and further out of his seat, eventually leaning so far he was halfway over the railing of their booth. Henry had to tug him back into his seat by the shirt four times.

"Behave yourself," Henry warned. Peter pouted.

"I remember someone else being rather excited at their first competition." , Shaan chuckled beside him. "Your father threatened to send you home if you didn't stay in your seat. The next time his back was turned, you leaned so far over the railing you fell right into the arena. Broke your arm, I believe."

"Don't encourage him." Henry sighed.

"I won't fall," Peter insisted.

"You almost certainly will," Henry disagreed, "You can see fine right where you are, Peter. You have the best seat in the arena, I don't know what you're fidgeting for—"

"I'm too short," Peter complained, "I can't see over the ledge."

"Come here." Henry gave in and gestured Peter over. Peter grinned widely in victory, clambering into Henry's lap. Henry sighed with fond exasperation, ruffling Peter's hair. "Better?"

"Yeah!" Peter still wiggled and leaned, but this way Henry was able to loop an arm around him to keep him secure.

Henry's current team was sweeping the competition; last year, they'd gone undefeated. They nearly did this year too, until Alex stepped forward. He was announced as Oscar Claremont—as if Henry wouldn't know that was his father's name—and he dominated every challenger he faced. He took out three of Henry's knights in succession and without problem, though he was clearly both as honorable and merciful as Henry remembered: he didn't kill or severely injure a single opponent. Alex quickly became the odds-on favorite to win.

"Impressive," Shaan murmured beside him.

"Very," Henry agreed, still watching Alex. Alex let his competitor up, clapped a hand to his shoulder, then slung his sword back into its scabbard and walked off the field.

All without a single glance in Henry's direction.

"Maybe I ought to fight today after all." Henry turned to Shaan. "The crowd likes this...Oscar, they like me, and we're both talented. A fight between us might really get them going, don't you think?"

"I'll have a messenger tell him your proposal." Shaan nodded, gesturing for one of the messengers to come over. Henry winced at the word choice.

"It's not a proposal, it's a demand." Henry changed his mind. "I wish to fight him."

Shaan studied him a moment, then shrugged and relayed it as such to the messenger.

"Why do you wanna fight him, Daddy?" Peter questioned.

"He seems strong," Henry told him, "Been a while since I've had a good fight."

And if he got to injure or severely maim the man who'd broken his heart, well. That was just a bonus.

Another two rounds passed before the messenger returned, looking hesitant, a bit fidgety. Henry shot him a sharp look.

"And?"

"He says he will not fight his king, sir."

"Did you tell him it was not a request?"

"I did. He said that if his decision displeases you, he will leave, but he will not fight you."

"Tell him he has remarkably poor judgment," Henry snapped, "As if that's any surprise."

"Sir?" The messenger looked surprised. Henry sighed, waved a hand.

"Scratch it. Don't bother."

"Henry?" Shaan raised an eyebrow at him.

"Never mind it." Henry shook his head sharply.

"Is he a bad man, Daddy?" Peter quirked his head.

"No." Henry sighed, his heart twisting in his chest in ways it hadn't in years. Not since he was young and in love, so terribly young and so desperately in love. "No, Peter. He's not."

After the competition—which Alex won, handily—Henry was supposed to deliberate with his advisors about the selection of knights. He tried to delay it, but Shaan gave him The Look so Henry forced himself to sit through it. The choices were obvious and Alex, of course, was at the top of the list regardless of what exactly that meant for Henry personally.

Did Alex want him to know he was back? He could. Announcing himself under a false name meant nothing; one had to have noble blood to become a knight and Alex was from a family of serfs and maids. He could be using the ruse only to become a knight and still fully intend to come to Henry later, explain himself. Henry had spent ten years imagining the wildest excuses for Alex leaving him that night, anything that wasn't a rejection, but even now he couldn't be sure. He hoped he'd stay strong, make Alex work for his forgiveness, but he knew that at the moment he was far more likely to break down sobbing, just grateful Alex was alive. He'd have to work on that before seeing him.

"Your highness?"

"Ah, yes." Henry lifted his head, cleared his thoughts. "What?"

"Does the final list please you?"

"Certainly. Shall we dismiss?"

"As you say."

Henry left abruptly. He was certain he heard one of the advisors mumbling to another, asking if Henry seemed distracted, but he put it out of his mind. He could do damage control later, if necessary. He had other priorities at the moment.

"Sir? Sir. Henry!"

Damn it.

Pez caught his shoulder, spun him back.

"Where're you rushing off to? You have to announce the knight's list."

"Shaan can do that, he runs the guard—"

"And you run the knights." Pez frowned. "Are you alright? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"It's nothing," Henry dismissed, "I don't feel quite well."

"Fair enough." Pez clapped a hand to his back, leading him in the direction of the courtyard where he'd be making the announcement. "Just finish this up, then you can get some rest. I still say you need a proper manservant; I'm just your knight, I can't always be running your schedule this way."

"If you don't like it, don't do it," Henry shot back, a touch waspishly.

"I jest." Pez raised his hands in a sign of innocence. "Well. About running your schedule."

"I'm not getting another manservant. Drop it."

He hadn't taken another manservant after Alex. It had been hard in the beginning, learning to do all the little things he'd always had a servant for as a child and Alex for later, but at first, he'd hoped. Alex had disappeared without a word to anyone, vanished without so much as a goodbye and Henry hadn't been able to make heads or tails of it. He'd worried desperately for Alex's safety, sent out search parties for miles and miles, organized his first expedition as prince in search of him.

Eventually, he'd been forced by his father to call it off—too much manpower for a simple servant, he'd said, even one Henry considered a friend—so all Henry could do was hope. Hope that Alex would escape whoever had taken him, or change his mind if he'd left on his own, and return to him. Hope had blinded Henry for years and however irrational it was, Henry had felt that filling Alex's position would be too much like erasing him. Henry hadn't wanted the hole Alex had left in his life and heart to be filled. He'd wanted to mourn.

Still, Pez brought up the subject every couple months and Henry was usually able to deflect neatly, with grace. Today, however, he wasn't exactly feeling neat or graceful.

"Look, I know he was your friend, and he left rather abruptly—"

"He was bossy and stubborn and didn't know his place and one of him was more than enough trouble for one lifetime," Henry snapped, "I don't need another and I'm not getting another, Pez, so help me, drop the subject or I'll drop you from the knight's list."

It was an empty threat and they both knew it, but saying it still carried some gravity. Henry had never told Pez what Alex had been to him, though Pez probably suspected it. Considering what a mess he'd been for years after Alex's disappearance, Henry would be surprised if there was anyone in the kingdom who hadn't had their suspicions at one point or another.

"You're wound a little tight," Pez observed.

"Tired," Henry answered shortly, "And sick. After this, I wish to be left alone, understood?"

"Certainly."

Pez clearly didn't believe that he was tired or ill. Henry didn't much care. He exited the castle with Pez by his side and they waited at the top of the steps while the candidates and spectators gathered in the courtyard. As he waited, a plan formulated; actually, this could work. All the knights received living quarters at the castle. Usually Shaan would show them about but maybe this year, Henry, benevolent and involved king that he was, could deign to do it himself. And if Alex  
was the last knight shown to his room, well. What were the odds?

Henry rattled off a short speech and an even shorter list of names; they had hundreds of soldiers in the guard, but the knights were exclusive. Their three new additions made for a total of eight: Shaan, who doubled as leader of the guard, Pez, Nora, Cash, Rafael, June, Alex, and himself. The majority of competitors went home disappointed, but they were always welcome to join the guard, or try again the next year.

Henry watched for Alex in the crowd, and found him quickly; he was the one person not making eye contact with him. After the announcement, he said he would show the new knights to their living quarters and a pleasantly surprised murmur rippled through the crowd. Fine by him. The more goodwill the better. The knighting ritual would take place later that evening, before the feast.

In the meantime, Henry called them forward. Nora and June took the steps two at a time, eager and in awe that Henry would take the time to do this for them. Alex followed behind at a normal pace, though he looked cautiously reluctant. He knew what Henry was playing at, then. Good.

"When's our first training day?" Cash questioned once they were inside.

"Sunrise tomorrow. You'll begin working with myself and the other knights immediately." Henry glanced over his shoulder at Alex, who still didn't meet his eyes. "June, 'Oscar'? Any questions?"

Alex shook his head mutely. “What do we call you, sir? I’ve never met a royal before,” piped up June.

Henry continued: "Within the castle walls, you're welcome to call me Henry. Outside, sir is sufficient. Where do you hail from, that you've never addressed a king?"

"Bandit kid, originally—" June started, only for Cash to elbow her, hard. "I mean, uh, I was born into a family of noble lords who happened to—"

"I'd prefer it if you didn't lie to me, June." Henry shot her a look over his shoulder. "I want talent from my knights, not bloodlines. Remind me to tell you how we found our archer, Rafael. Knights are family—we won't lie to you, so don't lie to us. We live together, train together, fight together. If there's no trust between us, that falls apart."

"Us?" Cash seemed understandably surprised. Cash was truly from a noble family and Henry ran his knights differently than most. However, he also had the best knights in the land, so no one was exactly lining up calling for change.

"Us." Henry nodded. "I'm your king, but I'm also a knight. I fight every fight you do. Bit of a danger junkie, you'll learn. Pez is the only reason I lived a day past eighteen."

Alex was silent behind him. Good. Let him feel guilty.

"Nice call, Oscar." June looped an arm around Alex.

"Call?" Henry raised an eyebrow.

"He's been set on being your knight since the day I met him," June explained. Alex frowned but didn't contradict. "Now I can see why. Didn't think we'd ever actually make it though, you wouldn't believe how scrawny this guy used to be."

"Can't imagine," Henry remarked dryly.

"Oh yeah. Tiny as hell, not a lick of muscle on him, but he took on my whole camp like a champ. It's how we met, actually. He was wandering through the woods, lost as all hell—"

"I wasn't lost—" Alex's mouth tightened. It was the first thing Henry had heard him say yet. He wasn't aware how desperately he'd missed Alex's voice until he heard it. Nine years ago, the sound of it would've turned Henry on his heel to kiss Alex in front of everyone. As it was, he kept silent.

"He was completely lost," June interrupted Alex and Henry hated her for it, "Came crashing through camp one day itching for a fight, damn near got himself killed. They would've had his hide if I hadn't swooped in."

"I'm glad he had someone to watch out for him." June probably didn't notice the tight sincerity in his voice, but Alex did. He finally looked at Henry, startled; it was Henry who looked away.

"Yeah, we've had each other's backs a while now. We’re like siblings, you know? Nora too. Good thing you picked all three of us or I would've had to hole up outside the castle in protest."

"June," Nora hissed, "Shut up."

"What?"

"He's the king, you moron." Nora elbowed her.

"The king can hear you," Henry mused.

"I'm sorry, my liege." Nora nodded her head formally. "She didn't grow up within any formal kingdom. Her concept of respect is misguided at best."

"Hey—"

"It's alright." Henry shot them both a smile. "I've never been what you'd call a particularly formal king. As I said, call me Henry. Now, down this way is the banquet hall. I hope you're hungry; you'll be meeting the others here later tonight, and they don't take kindly to picky eaters."

"You were right, Oscar, I love it here already." June eyed the banquet hall hungrily.

"Oh? Oscar's told you about the castle?" Henry arched an eyebrow at Alex, his voice carefully neutral. Alex didn't meet his eyes.

"I had a cousin who worked here once. He liked it very much."

"Is that so." It wasn't a question. Bull-fucking-shit the man standing before him was some cousin.

"Yes."

"And what was his name?"

"Alex Diaz." Alex looked anywhere but at Henry.

"You know he's been missing for near to a decade? That I've sent dozens of search parties looking for him?"

"Seems excessive." Alex's voice was small.

"Considering they didn't find him, I'd say it wasn't nearly enough."

"Is this Alex guy some kind of lord or something?" June shot Alex a pointed glance. "Sure sounds like you put a hell of a lot of effort into looking for him."

"He wasn't a lord." Henry shook his head. "He was a friend. And he disappeared without a word to anyone."

"That's not true—" Henry heard the fire in Alex's voice he'd been missing and he whirled around.

"Isn't it? He told no one, left no forwarding address, not so much as a note, so I don't know where you get the idea—"

"He left a note—"

"No, he didn't—"

"Of course he left a note!" Alex insisted fiercely.

"Then I don't know where the damn fool hid it because I searched both our chambers myself from top to bottom, had every squeaky floorboard turned up, every loose stone in the wall removed, and he left me nothing!"

"I—you didn't—" Alex looked horrified at that, distress written all over his face. "There was a note."

"Well, it wasn't found." Henry turned on his heel, led them down the hallway where they'd be staying without another word.

"Your cousin's kind of a total dick," June muttered to Alex.

Henry felt bitterly, cruelly vindicated.

"One, two, three, four." Henry pointed out three doors at the end of the hallway. "June, Cash, Nora, Oscar. The other doors lead to the other knight's chambers, though I doubt they're in at the moment. Get settled in, your knighting ceremony and following feast is at sundown."

Alex was first to disappear into his room. June and Cash had a few more questions and Henry answered them impatiently, until they finished and retired to their rooms. He made straight for Alex's and...stopped. He held one hand aloft, ready to knock, but couldn't quite bring himself to. Ten years. Ten fucking years. Unexplained and without contact. What in the hell could he even say? He'd had so many questions over the years, but none of them seemed important anymore. Who cared where he'd been or why he'd gone? He obviously hadn't been forced. He'd made the choice to leave Henry; what else mattered? Henry had lived and breathed denial for years, insisted to himself and everyone who would listen that Alex would be back. That they just had to wait. That he'd come back and explain himself and everything would be like it was supposed to be, Alex and Henry against the world again. He'd told himself that, the nights he'd dreamed of Alex.

The nights he woke up with a phantom warmth to his back, when he could imagine for a split second nothing had ever changed. The nights he woke in a cold sweat, calling for someone that wouldn't ever come.

Then he'd taken in Peter. He wouldn't ever love someone like he'd loved Alex; he knew that. But a child...a child he could love. Did love. He adored Peter, always had. He'd found recovery and healing through his son and though he'd never stopped loving Alex, he'd accepted the loss of him.

Yet now he was back.

What a presumptuous bastard he was. Coming back into Henry's life after ten goddamn years, just like that. He hadn't come back when Henry had been forced into an engagement against his will, or when his fiancé had run off a few short weeks later—something Henry may have helped orchestrate, but that wasn't the point—or when his father died and his mother became a ghost, he'd been forced to take the throne, still so young and so angry, still mourning so many people. Alex hadn't come back when Henry took in his cousin's child, became a father. Every time something had happened to Henry in the past ten years, he'd thought: maybe. Maybe this time. But Alex just kept him waiting.

Henry turned, walked away from the door without knocking.

It was Alex's turn to wait.

"With this sword." Henry tapped his sword to June's shoulder. "I proclaim thee a knight. Rise, Madam June." June rose and bowed deeply as Henry had instructed her earlier, though she couldn't hide a wickedly proud grin. Henry stifled a chuckle, moving along the line. Nora accepted her  
knighthood with respect and grace, pride kept in his eyes instead of her features. Henry nodded to her, returning the respect. Alex was last.

Alex stepped forward, chin high. He couldn't avoid Henry's eyes now, didn't try, and they truly held each other's gaze for the first time in a decade. Alex didn't waver. Henry had always been able to read him; time hadn't changed that as much as he'd thought it might. He could see the guilt in Alex's eyes clear as day, as well as remorse for what Henry had gone through, but there was a  
certain sort of conviction there, too. Alex still felt he'd made the right decision, then. Damn him.

"Kneel," Henry commanded.

Alex knelt, never breaking his gaze. Henry was struck hard by the memory of the time they'd played at switching roles; Alex had commanded whatever he pleased of Henry. He could still feel  
Alex's hand in his hair as he gently pushed him down, still hear Alex's voice in his head like it was just yesterday. 'Kneel, baby.' 'Alex, it doesn't work if you call me baby—' 'Did I say you  
could speak?' 'Now that's more like it.'

He could see the memory reflected in Alex's eyes.

"With this sword." Henry touched it to Alex's shoulder. The name felt false on his tongue, but he didn't flinch. "I proclaim thee a knight. Rise, Sir Claremont."

Alex stood. He was more solid now and good foot taller; Henry had to look up to him. He wondered what it'd be like to kiss him this way. He shook the thought away. The ceremony finished without problem, Alex's gaze having returned to the floor. Once the court left and it was just him and the knights, Catherine, Peter's grandmother, led Peter in.

"Daddy!" Peter called, taking off across the room.

"Peter, what did I say about—" Catherine began with a wry smile, but Henry waved it off.

"Oh, let him." Peter tackled him and Henry scooped him up. "C'mere, you. Peter, meet our new knights. Knights, Peter."

"My name is Peter Fox-Mountchristian-Windsor and I am to be your prince. Kneel!" Peter commanded to the newcomers with a grin, lifting his little chin high and earning a hoot of laughter and a kneel from just about everyone in the room. Henry wasn't watching everyone, though. He was watching Alex, who played along by kneeling though Henry could read the utter heartache in his face. Henry knew he'd once been as spirited and impertinent as Peter was now, that Alex was looking at Peter and seeing the young Fox-Mountchristian-Windsor heir he'd first met so long ago. Henry could tell immediately that Alex thought Peter was his blood and he could've corrected him right off the bat, but. He wasn't ready to correct Alex's misinterpretations of his life. He was angry, was bitter and hurting and itching for a fight. Alex had given up on him.

Let him think Henry had done the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't be me naming Henry's son after my favorite mcu character. Definitely not. Wrong bitch.  
> Hope you liked it! You can find me on tumblr @itsbr1ghternow


	3. Chapter 3

"'kay, 'kay, but watch." Rafael grinned and waved a hand over Peter's face, not quite drunk but making his way there. "I can do a trick. Just gimme a gold piece."

"Daddy said not to give you any more money," Peter told Rafael reproachfully, earning a laugh from around the table. Only the knights were permitted to attend the feast. It was a night for them all to integrate, to bond with their new companions a bit before training tomorrow morning. Peter wasn't a knight, of course, but Henry didn't go anywhere without him except battle and meetings. The knights adored him, anyway.

"Indeed, a good policy for us all." Shaan snorted.

"Just one piece, Peter, you're loaded," Rafael insisted.

"Don't listen to the scoundrel, Pete." Henry leaned across his armrest to stage whisper to a giggling Peter, "He'd rob us blind if we let him."

"You never did tell us how Rafael went from thief to knight," Nora pointed out.

"Oh, you don't wanna hear that story," Rafael protested. Nora and the others took to chanting 'story!' until Rafael relented, "Fine, fine. It was a nice, sunny day, in the nice, sunny kingdom of  
Richland—"

"England, he means," Henry clarified in amusement.

"Schmwhatevergland," Rafael slurred a bit, "Anyway. Sunny day. Rich city. Big score. I was travelling with this circus at the time—we'd get in good with the royals, skim off the treasury,  
disappear into the night—"

"What did you do for a circus?" June eyed him.

"I shot apples off people's heads." Rafael grinned. "Now, usually, I'd do a couple servants, maybe a brave as hell knight or two, then sneak off. No big, right? I offer to the kings too, but damn, never had one say yes before that son of bitch right there."

"Son of a queen, you watch your tongue." Henry grinned right back. Rafael just laughed.

"Right, so he walks up to me before I even offer, tells me to give it a go on him. I ask if he's got a death wish, he just winks and says near-death experiences are all he's got to keep him warm at  
night." Henry pointedly didn't look at Alex, but he could feel the heat of his gaze regardless. "I figure hey, what the hell? It's not like I'm gonna miss. I shoot and damn, I tell you, we've got a hell  
of a king. Courageous bastard didn't even flinch."

Everyone took the story at face value. Henry had always been known for his thrill-seeking streak, but most knights had one and it wasn't as if he'd ever been actively trying to get himself killed. Comments like that were taken as an easy, light-hearted joke; ten years apart or not, Alex knew him better than that. He knew that comments like that, uttered blithely with a wink and a smile,  
were about as close to honest as Henry got. The others laughed at Rafael's story and raised their goblets in a toast to their king's bravery, but Henry could feel Alex's knowing eyes on him. He  
continued the story instead.

"He went after the treasury once he thought I was too drunk to notice." Henry snorted. "But there's a reason I was able to get that drunk."

"I laid one finger on the door, and this one—" Rafael gestured a thumb at Shaan. "—damn near took my head off."

"Keep in mind," Henry told Nora and the others hearing the story for the first time, "Shaan wasn't head of the guard then, but damn if he hasn't always been the best hand-to-hand guy I've got.  
Usually takes him maybe three moves, and his opponent's unconscious."

"I," Rafael declared proudly, "Took nineteen."

"Sixteen." Shaan snorted.

"Nineteen."

"Sixteen."

"Boys." Zahra gave an exasperated sigh.

"Point being, Rafael almost wiped the floor with my best man—" Henry started. Shaan Frowned.

"Wiped the floor seems like an exaggeration—"

"So of course I had to look into him." Henry shrugged. "He piqued my interest. I put him up for the night while I had him looked into—"

"You invited a known thief who nearly shot you in the head into your home because he piqued your interest?" Alex demanded incredulously, and oh, were they talking now?

"Panned out, didn't it?" Henry remarked coolly.

"That 'known thief' is sitting right here, by the way." Rafael waved a hand at Alex with a smirk. "Don't go getting too cocky there, rookie. Even a thief knows the value of honor; I serve my king  
with pride."

"A thief with honor? Now I've seen it all." Alex raised an eyebrow in challenge. Henry narrowed his eyes at Alex. What was he challenging Rafael for? Alex wasn't the type to start a fight without  
reason.  
'  
"If it's a fight you're looking for, look no further." Rafael flashed Alex a grin, all teeth. "First thing tomorrow I'll show you the kind of knight our king wants at his back."

"And I'll show you the kind he ought to have," Alex replied with a smirk, his gaze flickering to Henry briefly. So that's what this was, then. Some kind of pissing contest to prove his worth. Ten  
years and Alex hadn't changed in the slightest. Always trying to prove himself, as if he didn't know all Henry had ever wanted was his presence. "Will you watch?"

Alex's tone was carefully clear of any telling emotion, but Henry didn't need that to read him.

Alex's hope was all in his eyes.

"I attend all training sessions," Henry answered dismissively. He leaned over to help Peter cut the last bit of his steak, focusing his attention there instead of on Alex. "I lead the knights. If they  
meet, so do I."

"I can do it," Peter insisted to him, pushing Henry's hand away.

"Sure you can. I can simply do it faster," he teased.

"Nu-uh!" Peter cut his bites up a little quicker.

Under the table, Zahra kicked him. Henry shot her a disgruntled look. She narrowed her eyes at him, glancing pointedly over at Alex, who had returned to his food in silence, then back at Henry,  
then raising an eyebrow. It was a clear demand in Zahra-ese for answers. Henry shook his head once, subtly. Zahra snorted not-so-subtly, but the table had already moved past Alex's  
antagonism of Rafael and on to the validity of Rafael's chosen weapon as a blunt instrument in close-combat.

"You need to apply more force, certainly," Shaan commented, "But it's not impractical."

"But you can't exactly kill anyone with it, no matter how much force you apply," Nora disagreed.

"Which makes me all the better in non-lethal matches," Rafael argued, "I'm more accustomed to methods that don't jump straight to slicing someone's head off."

"Hardly useful in a war." Pez snorted.

"But we're not at war," Zahra reminded him, "Haven't been in a long time."

"Doesn't mean we shouldn't be prepared." Pez frowned at the casual way she said it.

"It's impractical to assume such peace should last, yes, but that doesn't negate the usefulness of other tactics," Henry reminded him, "So long as Rafael maintains his sword training on the occasions he should need to use one, as he has, I see no reason he ought to be forced into carrying around a sword he does not prefer to use."

"And if an intruder with intent on your life broke past the other defenses and Sir Luna were left to fend him off with only a bow and the intruder had a sword, what then?" Alex contributed,  
directing the question at Henry.

"If I didn't know better, Sir Claremont, I'd think you had designs on my life the way you talk." Henry eyed him. Rafael was glaring daggers at Alex; Henry appeased him. "Rafael could handle himself against the most proficient swordsman with only a bow, it is a feat I have seen myself and I entrust my life to him secure in that knowledge. But it seems you're quite set on worst case scenarios, aren't you?"

"I feel better when I'm prepared for them, yes," Alex answered stiffly.

"Then rest assured, for I can defend myself." Henry smiled but it rang false, all sharp edges and challenge. "Or perhaps you haven't heard of the events of my eighteenth birthday."  
"I know of them." Alex's voice was subdued, the anger in his eyes only for Henry to see.

"Then you know that though I trust my knights implicitly, I am my own final line of defense and you need not concern yourself with my safety."

"I know that you were injured gravely."

"Yet I prevailed."

"You would've prevailed uninjured if you'd had someone capable guarding you."

"You dare imply that I'm incapable of defending our King?" Rafael demanded with a snarl, "Know your place, rookie, or I am more than happy to show it to you—"

"He meant my former guard." Henry raised a hand to Rafael, silencing him, though his sight never left Alex as he growled out a response, "Who was certainly capable enough to buy me the time to get to my sword—"

"Who was taken out in a flat second—"  
"His presence was the single thing that saved my life that night, don't you dare speak ill of him to my face—"

"Sir Claremont." Pez's voice, sharp and forceful, cut through their building argument. "The guard you speak of was a personal friend of both the King and myself, and a hero for his actions at that.  
It would be best if you did not speak of him at all, but if you must, you will speak with respect. Is that understood?"

Alex looked slightly shocked, but answered compliantly after only a moment, "Indeed, Sir Okonjo."

"If you doubt my capabilities," Henry began mildly, because he never did know when to leave well enough alone, "I would be more than happy to provide you with a demonstration."

"I've no desire to fight you," Alex told him, weariness evident in his voice.

"Oh, but I quite wish to fight you." Henry leaned forward. "Perhaps tomorrow, after your match with Sir Luna."

"I'd rather not."

"You mistake my demand for a question."

"I will not hold a sword against you," Alex told him stubbornly, "You are my King."

"Then a spar is of no concern, for I'll disarm you long before you have the chance to."

"I will leave the kingdom before I fight you, my liege." Alex met Henry's gaze without hesitance.

"I suppose you would." Henry snorted, an ugly, bitter sound. "It's what your 'family' does best, isn't it? Run away?"

"He left for good cause," Alex grit out.

"Pray tell, Sir Claremont, I've been waiting quite a while to hear this particular excuse."

"It's no excuse, which you would know had you read his note."

"He didn't leave any damn note," Henry hissed.

"He did,"Alex insisted just as fiercely, "He told me quite specifically that he did, in his beloved's shirt."

"Funny, I wasn't aware he had a beloved," Henry taunted, "Most people don't abandon theirs so easily."

Alex grit his teeth. His nostrils flared, a sure sign he was trying to tamp down his anger and beginning to fail. He was more of a hothead than people suspected; it had gotten him in trouble  
more than once, though Henry couldn't ever recall having it directed at him before, not genuinely. But then, he'd never denied Alex to his face before either. It was a cruel taunt and the hurt Alex's eyes was painful to see no matter how much Henry had been certain he'd wanted to cause it.

"It was not easy." Alex's hands clenched to fists. He moved them under the table. "It was the single hardest thing he ever had to do."

"Ever chose to do," Henry spat back.

"Perceive it as you like," Alex grit out, "He did what needed to be done."

"He was a fucking coward." Henry sneered. "He did what he wanted."

"How could you ever think that was what he wanted?" Alex demanded, "He was miserable, was completely, utterly miserable—he spent every moment of it wishing for a future he could never have, dreaming of a past he could never return to, and he tortured himself over it. He felt like the lowest scum to ever scrape across the earth, but he kept going because it meant the person he  
loved most in the world would be safe and that would always be more important than anything else."

The knights, who had previously been uncomfortably doing their best ignore the argument breaking out, were now unashamedly staring at them. Though Henry craved nothing more to drag Alex away, speak in private and demand his answers, he knew exactly how it would look. How it already looked.

"I may be your fellow knight, Claremont," Henry hissed, drawing himself up with all the control and command he was known for, "But I am also your King and I would advise you not to forget who  
it is you speak to."

There was a part of him that wanted Alex to ignore the warning and barrel forward, damn the consequences. Once, far too long ago, he might have. Instead, he simply drew in a deep breath  
before bowing his head low.

"Apologies, my liege." Henry had never hated the title more than on Alex's lips at that very moment. "My cousin is as sore a spot for me as he is for you, it seems. Perhaps the past is simply  
best left there."

"For the moment." Henry narrowed his eyes. If Alex thought they were done discussing this, he was out of his mind.

"Cousin? That's what this is?" Shaan frowned, finally finding a place to interject. "Sir Claremont, you're related to Alex?"

"Alex Claremont-Diaz?" Peter, who'd been slouched next to Henry in a show of bored disinterest for the argument, perked up. He leaned across the table eagerly. "You know him?"

"Peter—" Henry started.

"How do you know of him?" Alex cut him off to ask Peter incredulously.

"Daddy talks about him." Peter dismissed Alex's question as if it were obvious, which to him it likely was. Henry had told Peter stories of Alex since he was just a baby. Alex, however, looked  
some mix of stunned and horrified. "Can you find him?"

"He talks about him?" Alex only repeated.

"You're still telling Peter those stories?" Pez shot Henry a disapproving look, but before Henry could say anything Alex jumped on that too.

"What stories?"

"Don't you know?" Peter quirked his head. "Alex's the hero that saved Daddy."

"I really don't think the Alex conversation is one we should be having at the table—" Shaan began.

"I agree completely." Henry concluded, not eager for Peter to tell Alex any more than he already had. "Peter, finish your dinner."

It was sort of—alright, entirely—Henry's fault. When Henry had first taken Peter into his care, he'd only been twenty-two. The loss of Alex had still stung and the hope for his return hadn't yet died, so in lieu of bedtime stories Henry had told his new son tales of Alex, The Lost Hero. He'd put a few fantastical spins on the adventures he and Alex had gone on over the years, all true though somewhat exaggerated for a child's ears, and relayed them to Peter. The stories culminated in how Alex had saved Henry's life one last time only to be stolen away in the night by dark magic. Henry had added the addendum that it was "fated" for the Lost Hero to return when the kingdom needed him most; it was a child's story, after all, and if Henry had perhaps needed the hope as well, Peter was none the wiser.

Alex was a fairytale character to Peter. He'd grown up listening to such stories in rapture, envisioning Alex as a hero to be admired, someone to be like when he grew up. Henry liked that.  
Everyone else had always been so eager to forget about Alex and Henry could hardly say much about him to an adult without betraying the true nature of their relationship. With Peter, he could  
hold on to those memories. He liked that Peter worshipped Alex; Henry certainly always had.

The flighty bastard himself, however, didn't need to know that.

"But Daddy, he knows Alex!" Peter barreled onward excitedly anyway, his attention on Alex once again. "He's your cousin, right? D'you talk to him? Could you tell him to come home? You  
should tell him I wanna meet him, I bet he'd at least come visit then, Daddy says he'd really like me if he—"

"That's enough about Alex, Peter." Henry placed a firm hand on Peter's shoulder, forced him to sit back in his seat. "Leave Sir Claremont be, he won't help you."

"I can't," Alex corrected and it was a lie, it was such a goddamn lie, but one thing melted a hint of the anger Henry felt towards him: he wasn't directing the lie at Henry, but at Peter. He was only trying to cheer up Peter, who had slumped in his chair again with a look of moody rebellion. "I'd love to help you, Peter, but I don't know where he is or how to reach him."

"Oh," Peter mumbled, more dejected now than sullen.

"I think you're finished eating now, aren't you?" Henry decided, taking a look at Peter's mostly empty plate. "It's getting late, it's about time a certain someone went to bed."

"But Da-ad—" Peter began to complain. He looked quite startled when it turned into a yawn. The knights laughed.

"Sounds like bedtime to me." Henry chuckled, rising from his seat and holding out a hand to Peter.

"Come on."

"Can you at least tell me a Alex story?" Peter asked plaintively as he wriggled out of his chair, already rubbing at his eyes.

"I—well." Henry pointedly didn't turn back to look at Alex. "Alright."

"The one where he caught the bandits in the trap?"

"If you'd like."

"Apologies for that, Alex, Alex is a bit of a...touchy subject." Pez leaned forward, putting his head in his hands with a weary, contemplative sigh. "Jesus, I can't believe he's still telling those  
damn stories. I thought he...damn it all."

Alex's mind was still reeling.

No. That wasn't what was supposed to—no. Being back in the kingdom again was painful enough. Seeing Henry again after so long…Jesus Christ, Henry. He looked so much wearier than when Alex had seen him last, old beyond even his near twenty-eight years. Alex was unsurprised to find he'd grown ever more handsome in that time, the innocence and youth of his features giving way to experience and wisdom. He was as strong-willed as ever, though Henry the man carried his rage with far more fearsome command than Henry the boy.  
Even as Henry had spat poison at him, Alex had ached to reach out to him. It was nothing new, the need to wrap Henry in his arms and never let go, to spend the rest of his life watching the pinched corner of his mouth when he talked, the crinkle of his eyes when he smiled. But the immensity of the desire had hit Alex like a train; he felt almost exhausted from the exertion of holding himself back. He'd hoped time might have cooled his impulsivity regarding Henry, but it'd been a naïve hope. He was as drawn to Henry as when he'd left, perhaps more so. Missing him so desperately and for so long only to have him here again and close enough to touch was the most exquisite torture, but Alex had endured it for a reason.

Henry was supposed to have moved on. He was supposed to have made a family and rarely think of Alex again. It was why he'd waited so long to return, so they could start over as friends. He  
knew how laughably, naively idealistic that sounded, but they'd been friends before anything else and he'd been so, so certain they could return to that. Even when they'd been together, the romance had only been another facet of an existing relationship; he'd miss that aspect like it was a damn body part, of course he would, but it wasn't what he needed. He needed Henry. Not kissing Henry, not sex with Henry—as blissfully enjoyable as it all had been—just Henry. He'd never meant for Henry to hold on this long.

God. Henry told his son stories of Alex. Henry had convinced his son—the son he'd had with the woman he'd married, the Queen for God's sake—that Alex was some sort of hero. This was all  
wrong. This was all so horribly, horribly wrong. Alex had wanted to be remembered, yes, but as a vague, fond memory overshadowed by Henry's bright and happy future with his wife, his child,  
his kingdom. He'd left precisely so that he wouldn't hold Henry back, so that Henry might have the life he deserved, a life free of Alex's complications. Where had he gone wrong?

"We don't usually discuss dead men at the table." Rafael shot Alex a look that implied he clearly found this all to be Alex's fault. It was, of course, but not for the reasons Rafael probably thought.

"Don't let him catch you saying that," Shaan warned Rafael sharply, glancing at the door.

"I thought this Alex was alive?" Nora shot a small glance Alex's way. Thankfully nobody seemed to catch it, though Alex wished she'd be more careful.

"Opinions vary," Shaan told him before turning to Alex, "Regardless, if you do have some way of contacting your cousin? Keep it to yourself."

"Definitely. He's particularly touchy today, probably because you bear some passing familial resemblance to Alex, but most days..." Pez sighed again. "He's getting better. It doesn't look  
like it, I know, but he is."

"This all happened a decade ago," Alex tried to insist, because Henry should be long past this, should've forgotten all about Alex ages ago. He was married, for God's sake, what could the Queen think of Henry telling Peter stories of him? "How could he even still remember some servant?"

There was a moment of silence, before Rafael leaned forward and narrowed his eyes at Alex curiously. "It's as if you want him to execute you."

"Rafael." Shaan shot him a reprimanding glare before assuring Alex, "He wouldn't execute you. Our King is not a man to leap to execution out of anger, or spite, though Rafael is right that you're  
certainly trying your hardest."

"What did I—?"  
"Don't call Alex 'some servant'." Pez made an impatient face at him. It was a familiar look, though Alex couldn't recall it ever being directed at him before. It'd always been Henry who tried Pez’s patience to the point of fond exasperation. There was no fondness in Shaan's expression now, however; clearly Henry was the only one who'd recognized him. Whether or not he would tell Shaan and Pez, only time would tell. "If you haven't yet realized, Alex still bears a fair amount of importance to the King."

"And that is not something that leaves this room." Pez narrowed his eyes at June, Nora, and Alex each in turn. "We pick up on information like that because we are close enough to the King that he does not guard his every thought from us. He does this because he trusts us; you are knights now and you are above such petty things as gossip. If I catch any one of you discussing this, or any other such tender matters with men who are not your fellow knights, the punishment will not be merciful."

"Yessir," they responded as one.

"So long as we're clear." Pez nodded, satisfied. "In the future, Alex, try to avoid the subject of your cousin. It's false hope and it's cruel."

"Just who is Alex to the king?" June had a look of innocent confusion on her face, though it would only ring false to Alex. He shot a subtle glare at the side of June's head. June avoided  
eye contact with him.

She knew full well who Alex was, just like she knew full well who Alex was to Henry. It'd taken some time to trust her, but June had been by Alex's side since very early on in his travels and they'd saved each other's lives a dozen times over. Alex trusted her implicitly and had told her both his real name and why he was so intent on his training. Nora had joined them a few years  
later. She was the one who'd suggested Alex become a knight, since some Kings had knights as their personal guardians, and later helped Alex and June to sort of the details of the process as  
well as fake their royal seals.

"Alex Claremont-Diaz was a friend of ours," Shaan told them, "Well, Pez and I. We all grew up in the castle together, but it was the King he was close to. Became his personal manservant when  
they were eleven or twelve."

"He left the castle on Henry's eighteenth birthday without telling a soul, immediately after an attempt was made on Henry's life. There've always been rumors about how connected those two events are, if Alex might have tipped the attacker off or something—" It burned Alex to stay silent. Pez continued. "—but Henry won't hear of it. I believe him. Many don't. Regardless,  
Henry never got over the breach of trust."

"What breach?" Alex couldn't help asking. "He could never believe Alex really assisted with an assassination attempt—"  
"Of course not. But Alex and the King..." Pez fell silent a moment. "They were hard to describe. Hard to separate, too. They knew each other all their lives; you never saw one without  
the other. They were closer than any two people I've ever seen, yet Alex left him without a word. It broke him in ways I'm not sure are even reparable."

June was giving him The Look. She'd always railed for Alex to go back, always insisted that Alex was being dumb and that Henry would want him around whether or not Alex could defend him. Alex knew that, of course, he'd never doubted that Henry loved him; it was that love that had been precisely the problem. Henry had always been so ready to disregard everything for Alex.  
He'd been willing to abandon his responsibilities for it, his kingdom and his future, and for what? Some scrawny orphan who couldn't fight off so much as a stray cat? Henry deserved better than that. He always had. Alex couldn't be what Henry had wanted him to be, but he could at least protect him now and that was far more important.

"He tried to describe it to me, once," Shaan mused with a quiet, contemplative swig of his drink, "Damn saddest thing I've ever heard. Said it was like all your life, you were walking on water. You never knew you could do it because it depended on your belief that it wasn't water beneath you but solid earth. Then one day, out of the blue, someone tells you there's no earth beneath you.  
You don't believe them at first, because you know that of course there is. How could the very earth beneath you be gone without you noticing, when you'd been walking on it your whole life? But when it turns out they're right, the faith that was keeping you above water drowns you instead."

Silence echoed around the table.

Alex felt sick with a guilt that dug into his very bones.

"Christ." June gaped. She and Nora both seemed to be struggling not to stare at Alex. It was possible he'd perhaps downplayed the intensity of his and Henry's relationship to them.

"Enough of this Alex talk," Rafael declared, raising his mug, "This is supposed to be a feast, not a funeral service."

"Indeed!" Shaan raised his as well, shaking his head as if to shrug off the gloom. "A toast to our new knights, yes?"

"A toast!"

The others joined in and before long the subject of Alex and Henry was long forgotten by all but Alex himself. He couldn't wrap his mind around it. How could this still be such a sore subject for  
Henry that his knights had noticed? It had been ten years. Henry had married, produced a child. What was he even still thinking of Alex for?

The question plagued Alex, but he didn't get a chance to ask Henry himself. Henry returned to the feast after some time but was uncharacteristically quiet. Long after the feast ended, Alex couldn't help expecting Henry to come to his chambers, just as he'd been unable to help expecting Henry to come by earlier. Just like earlier, Henry never came.

Alex figured he deserved that. He tried to settle into bed. He attempted to put aside such thoughts and get some rest—Sir Luna in particular would not go easy on him tomorrow, Alex knew—but the look in Henry's eyes when he'd first seen Alex that morning still haunted him. The recognition, the fear, the hope...time had done plenty, but it hadn't done a thing to dampen Alex's ability to understand Henry. He'd been reading the looks in Henry's eyes since he was a child; he saw worlds in those eyes, he always had.

He knew Henry better than Henry knew himself and he'd known from the very moment he'd laid eyes on Henry that Henry hadn't forgotten him for a second. It hurt to think about, but as Alex tried desperately to fall asleep he found he could think of nothing else. Come morning, Alex was just as restless. Not for his match with Sir Luna—he'd spent his decade quite purposefully and if there was one thing he could be certain in it was his skill with a sword—but for the one Henry might try and start afterward. Henry was itching for a fight. Alex couldn't claim he didn't understand, but that didn't mean he would ever dare hold to a sword against the man he loved.

"Well, come on then." Rafael twirled his bow. "Have at it."

"Where's your sword?" Alex frowned.'

"I don't need it."

"I'm trying to be fair." Alex sighed.

"And I'm trying to kick your ass," Rafael informed him disdainfully, "Who says I need a sword for that?"

"Look at you, Oscar." June grinned, clapping him on the shoulder as he passed. "You just make friends everywhere you go, don't you?"

"I'm not here to make friends," Alex reminded June quietly, who sighed.

"There's that work ethic again," June muttered good-naturedly, not quite loud enough for the others to hear, "Come on, we made the knights. Cut yourself a little slack."

Alex shook his head. June rolled his eyes, but moved along. Despite what June and Nora might have to say about it, Alex still had a lot left to prove. The training had only been the first step; the second part, the important part, was proving to Henry that it had been worth it. That leaving had made him strong enough to be worthy of standing at Henry's side again, of being as much Henry's equal as he could ever be.

"If both knights are ready?" Henry drawled, his gaze lingering no more on Alex any more than it did on Rafael.

"Bring it, rookie." Rafael smirked at him.

"If you say so." Alex shot him one in return.

Rafael had no idea what he was getting himself into. This was Alex's moment to prove to Henry that their time apart had been well spent; this was how he would prove he had become the knight  
Henry could trust at his side, the knight Henry wanted at his side.

Rafael never stood a chance.

Alex took him down cleanly and efficiently, cutting the man no breaks for pride. He got the sense Rafael wouldn't have wanted him to anyway. Once he'd knocked Rafael's bow from his hand and  
pressed his blade against Rafael's throat—a show of dominance, not enough to even touch the skin —he looked to Henry for approval. Henry raised a hand lazily, calling the match but not holding Alex's gaze.'

The rest of the training and later days passed much the same. Henry barely glanced his way, only speaking to him if spoken to first and only making enough eye contact to seem politely neutral. He was perfectly cordial, a cold sort of brusque that might befit another king but had never quite rung true for Henry. He was informal, was warm and welcoming and open with everyone; within the space of a week, June and Nora had earned his informal good nature. Alex had not. That was fair, he knew. They would have to sit down and talk and work things out between them before Alex could begin to earn Henry's forgiveness, but Henry wouldn't let him. Alex tried to get him alone countless times, tried to catch him after training sessions, between meetings, after meals, but  
Henry always skittered just out of reach before Alex could lay a hand on him, dashing away to whatever appointment he had next.

Worse still, everyone knew something was off. In another castle that sort of behavior to subordinates might go unnoticed, but Henry wasn't that kind of King. He was warm with his knights, jocular and friendly like any one of them. It was only Alex he was curt with, only Alex he snapped at, only Alex he got into a shouting match with every other hour. Henry certainly wasn't subtle with his rage, but 'being related to Alex' seemed to be enough of a reason that for the moment no one was asking any further questions. Alex had known Henry wouldn't be pleased with him for leaving, but he'd thought time would dull it enough that after a few sharp words and some lengthy discussion they could be friends again, that Henry would let him back into his life.

He'd been wrong.

He deserved that though, he supposed. If Henry had never received his letter...he tried to imagine how he'd have felt if Henry had left him in the middle of the night without so much as a word, but couldn't. It hurt too much. He'd spend the rest of his life trying to make that up to Henry. He'd made the right decision in leaving, but as hard as it would have been he should have spoken to  
Henry. He'd been too afraid, known all too well that Henry would have convinced him to stay. He'd broken Henry's heart for it though and there was no excuse for that.

Days turned into a week and still Alex couldn't get Henry alone. Having the man so close and not being able to even talk with him—truly talk with him—ached worse than being apart completely.  
At least then he could imagine Henry was happy. That was the worst part of it all, really: Henry wasn't happy. Alex had left not just so he could get stronger, not just so Henry could have a  
family, but so that Henry could find happiness in doing so. Alex could have stayed. He could have trained in the kingdom, broken things off with Henry but stayed his friend and convinced Henry to marry—Alex doubted how successful he would have been in 'breaking things off' considering his horrible weakness for Henry's pleases, but he could have, theoretically—but Henry wouldn't have committed to it. He'd have only been trying to appease Alex and he wouldn't have found any sort of happiness that way.

But Alex had left. So why wasn't Henry happy? He had his wife and child, his knights, his kingdom. By all accounts, he should be happy. Was his wife ill? Alex hadn't seen her once in his  
entire first week at the castle. Alex would admit he was not particularly looking forward to meeting the woman who could call Henry her own and certainly didn't intend to go out of his way  
to meet her, but he did wonder where exactly she'd disappeared to. He hadn't seen her at ceremonies or training exercises, or even playing with Peter in the courtyard where he most often  
found Henry.

He'd tried at first to approach Henry there, hoping the clear lack of duties to attend to would leave Henry without an excuse to leave. Henry had simply taken Peter by the hand and flat out left with a simple, tense,another time, Sir Claremont, tossed over his shoulder. Alex soon stopped approaching him there at least, because it meant that he could settle in on the balcony above the courtyard in his free time with pencil and paper in hand. He was unsure if Henry knew he was there or not, but he elected not to draw attention to himself. There was a melancholy sort of peacefulness to those afternoons, observing the way Henry interacted with his son.

He was most reminiscent of the boy Alex had known when he was with Peter. He smiled and laughed more, the tension he seemed to carry with him near constantly finally easing. He was  
relaxed with the knights but he was playful with Peter, spirited and loose in a way he wasn't with anyone else. Henry was still young, soon to be just twenty-eight, but that youth was usually clouded by the heavy responsibility he surely shouldered. With Peter, his remaining vivacity showed through in a way Alex would never be able to adequately put to paper. He tried his best.  
Peter was often in the courtyard without Henry as well, practicing his swordsmanship with one of the knights or playing games with his friends. Alex liked watching Peter. He looked a little like Henry, though it was less in his actual features and more in his expressions, his behavior. He certainly had the same spirited, mischievous nature. He was louder about it than Henry had been;  
Henry was more cautious, more likely to observe a situation and get his footing before speaking up. Peter seemed to leap first and figure out how to stick his landing later.

If Henry ever caught him watching Peter he didn't mention it, but then, Henry didn't mention anything to him anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm on tumblr at itsbr1ghternow


	4. Chapter 4

Peter was about to knock Harry on his butt when he realized he was being watched.

Harry used the distraction to block Peter's winning shot, parry and knock Peter's wooden swordm from his hand. Shoot. Peter turned, expecting his watcher to be Daddy, who would help him take  
Harry on, but it wasn't. It was the curly-haired man Daddy yelled at a lot, Alex's cousin. The moment Peter looked at him, he started walking again, looking away from Peter and disappearing off down the hall. Peter shrugged, turned back to Harry.

"Two outta three?"

That was that, the first time. Peter forgot all about it, until it happened again. And again. And again. Soon enough, any time Peter was in the courtyard, he could expect Sir Claremont to be  
watching him like a hawk. He had a notepad with him almost always; Peter wondered what he needed it for. Was he writing about Peter? He didn't know for certain and it made him nervous,  
which was strange. He liked the knights. Daddy had always told him that if he ever needed anything, the knights' first duty was to protect Peter at all costs, so he should never be afraid to go  
to them for help.

This one was different, though. Daddy liked the other knights, got along with them. He never shouted with them like he and Sir Claremont shouted with each other, or stare at them all the time, or make sad faces when Sir Claremont wasn't looking. Sir Claremont did it too, though Peter couldn't tell for sure if Daddy knew or not. Either way, he didn't like it one bit; Daddy was always in a mood after seeing Sir Claremont, mad and sad and quiet all at once, nearly all the time now.

So he asked about it.

"How about red today?" Daddy handed him a shirt and Peter took it, started to tug it on. Daddy tried to help him.

"No! I can do it."

"If you say so." Daddy chuckled.

"Daddy?" Peter questioned as he wiggled into the shirt, "How come you'n Sir Claremont keep yelling at each other?"

Daddy seemed surprised by the question. He leaned back against Peter's bed, taking a moment to think it over before saying, "We knew the same person, once."

"Alex?"

"Yes. We disagree very strongly about a decision Alex made."

"What decision?"

"Nothing you should worry about." Daddy smiled at him, but it was sad. "It was a long time ago."

"But he's not..." Peter fidgeted. "He's not bad though, right?"

"Who?" Daddy looked startled. "Sir Claremont? He's many things, but never that. What would make you think something like that?"

"He's always watchin' me all...weird," Peter admitted, "And he writes stuff down. Is he writing about me?"

Daddy looked very sad at that so Peter moved over to the bed to give Daddy the biggest, tightest hug he could. He didn't like it when Daddy looked like that. Daddy squeezed him tight a moment  
too, then let go and crouched down to Peter's level.

"He's drawing you," Daddy told him with another sad smile, "It means he's fond of you. Will you promise me something, Peter?"

Peter nodded seriously.

"Be nice to him." Daddy brushed his hair back with one hand before pressing a kiss to his forehead. "He's made some very poor decisions, and he doesn't always know how to say the things he wants to, but he's a good man. The very best."  
"Okay," Peter decided, "I'll be real nice to him. I promise."  
"Thank you." Daddy smiled one last of his sad smiles, the ones Peter hated, before standing up again and going to Peter's dresser to pick out the rest of his clothes for the day.  
The next time Peter caught Sir Claremont watching him, he ditched his wooden play-sword and marched right up to him. Sir Claremont hastily shut his notepad as Peter approached.  
"Hello." Peter stuck out a hand boldly. "My name is Peter Fox-Mountchristian-Windsor. I'm your prince."  
"That you are." Sir Claremont shook his hand with a bit of smile. "Though I believe we've met."  
"Yeah, but you don't talk to me, you just watch. You oughta talk to me. I'm great."  
That startled a laugh out of the knight.\

"You and I are gonna be friends," Peter told him with certainty.

Sir Claremont chuckled. "I'd like that very much, Peter."

"Great!" Peter hopped up on the bench with him. "Daddy says you've been drawing me, can I see?"

"He...?" Sir Claremont paled a bit, his lips going thin, but he eventually nodded. "If you want." He opened the notepad again and started to flip to the back of it, but Peter stopped him.

"Hey, is that Daddy?" Peter, too excited to remember his manners, grabbed the pad.

"No, that's—it was just—"

"Wow." Peter boggled at it. "You're amazing."

The picture looked just like his Daddy. He was in his knight's armor, shield high and sword at the ready, though his helmet was off. Every detail of his face looked exactly the same, except—  
"He's got a scar right here though." Peter pointed to just under Daddy's jaw. "He got it fighting a griffin that came through the town square. He hopped right up on it's back and wrestled it down,  
but they've got real sharp claws and he got nicked."

"I'll be sure and remember that." Sir Claremont leaned over him a little to mark the place where Peter was pointing with his pencil. He circled the spot and wrote the words 'griffin attack; scar?'. "Your father's a very brave man."

"Yeah." Peter flipped through the book some more. "Didja know he went after a hydra once? Wasn't even for our kingdom, he just wanted to see if he could."

"Was he alright?"

"Coupl'a broken bones, I think." Peter wasn't really paying attention to answering anymore, far more focused on finding a picture of himself. Most of the pictures just seemed to be Daddy a bunch of different ways. "And Sir Okonjo says he almost got drowned 'cause he ran into a siren on his way back."

"He 'ran into' a siren this far inland?"

"Sir Okonjo says b'fore I came along, Daddy was always lookin' for trouble, just like me." Peter found a picture of himself and Harry. "Hey, there's me!"

"When was all this?"

"I dunno, a week ago?" Peter frowned up at him. "You tell me, you drew it."

"No, the hydra."

"Oh. I wasn't born yet." Peter returned his attention to the pictures. "So a really really long time ago."

"Right."

Sir Claremont fell silent, let Peter look at the pictures. When Peter finished and handed it back, Sir Claremont smiled at him.

"What's the verdict?"

"You're a real amazing artist, Sir," Peter told him honestly.

"Well, thank you, it's mostly just—" Sir Claremont began, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment, but Peter cut him off impertinently.

"No, really," he insisted, "Art's a part of my lessons, but mine never turn out good. I tried to draw Daddy last week, but I forgot a lot of him. Like his nose, I think. But you got everything."

"I've had plenty more practice than you." Sir Claremont smiled. "You'll get there."

"Y'think?"

"Just keep drawing him." Sir Claremont's smile went a little thin. "Soon enough you won't be able to forget a thing."

"Thanks, Sir Claremont." Peter beamed back.

"You're welcome." Sir Claremont patted his shoulder. "But just Oscar is fine."

"Sure, Just Oscar. And you can call me Prince Peter Fox-Mountchristian-Windsor, his royal Greatness."

"As you wish, my liege." Oscar stood, pressed one hand across his chest and bowed deeply.

"Always a pleasure speaking with Prince Peter Parker Fox-Mountchristian-Windsor, his royal Greatness."

Peter giggled, earning another smile from Oscar. "I'm glad you're not mad at me too, Just Oscar."

"Too?" Oscar frowned, took a seat beside him again with a concerned look. "Who's mad at you?"

"Not at me. But you're real mad at Daddy so I thought you might'a been mad at me, too."

"No, no, of course I'm not mad at you," Oscar told him hastily, "And I'm not mad at your father, either. We're having a...disagreement, but I'm not angry with him."

"You sound angry," Peter pointed out, "Kind of a lot."

"It's..." Oscar made a bit of a face, his mouth twisting a little. "Complicated."

"Cause of Alex?"

"Yes." Oscar glanced down at his hands. "Because of Alex."

"Why don't you just get him to come back?" Peter pressed, "I bet he could clear it up."

"I'm sure he'd like to." Oscar's mouth did the twisty thing again. "But I don't think your father cares much what he has to say for himself."

Peter wasn't sure what that meant. He ignored it and tried a different tactic. "Can you at least tell him about me? He might come back then, t'meet me. Daddy says he would've thought I was  
great."

"Your father is absolutely right." Oscar's mouth finally stopped doing the twisty thing long enough to shoot Peter a smile.

"Then d'you think he'd at least send me a letter or something?" Peter pushed, "I really, really, really wanna meet him. Daddy says he fought a dragon once—"

"It was just a hatchling." Oscar looked oddly embarrassed by that. "And he didn't fight it, not really, he just—"

"Jumped right in front'a it when it was about'a burn Daddy," Peter finished eagerly, "Dumped his water pail on it right in time. Then they bundled it up so it couldn't claw 'em and he and Daddy  
and Sir Okonjo snuck into dragon territory to get it back to it's mama."

Oscar was quiet for a long moment after that. He must've been absorbing the awesomeness of the story. When he spoke, he had a weirdly sad smile. Kind of like Daddy's.

"Your father tells you a lot of these, huh?"

"Sure, every night b'fore bed. Well, most nights. If I'm good." Peter quickly added, "I'm usually good."

"I bet you are." Oscar's smile loosened a little.

"So are you gonna tell Alex about me?" Peter bounced a little, eager.

"You know, Peter, I think...I think Alex might be better left in the past." Oscar gave a bit of a sigh.

"Great, you too." Peter scowled moodily.

"Me too?" Oscar shot him a curious look.

"Sir Okonjo says I'm not supposed to talk about him," Peter admitted, "But he's your cousin, so I thought it'd be okay."

"Why can't you talk about him?"

"He says it makes Daddy either real mad or real sad, so I shouldn't do it. But Daddy always says we gotta remember him, no matter what Sir Okonjo says."

"Remember him? You never met him."

"No." Peter fidgeted, gaining momentum and excitement as he talked. "But I want to. That's why you gotta tell him to come back, so I can meet him. Daddy says we'd have been real good buddies, him and me, says Alex would've adored me cause I got sass like he does. He says Alex's real nice, too, that he's smart and kind and honest and has a real big heart with plenty'a room for me."

"Your father really..." Oscar's voice was soft, almost silent, like he couldn't quite draw up the right words. He was making a funny sort of face, all scrunched and sad, and he swallowed hard before  
he spoke again. "He said all that?"

"Yeah!" Peter smiled, pleased that he might finally be getting through to Oscar. "Alex's the best."

"What did your father tell you happened to him, exactly?"

"A real mean wizard stole him away in the middle of the night with..." Peter wiggled his fingers the way Daddy always did when he told the story. "Black magic."

"Black magic?" Oscar gave a small, aborted laugh.

"Uh-huh. But Daddy says Alex's the strongest there is, so when—"

"He's been telling you that?" Oscar interrupted again. He was real bad at that. "That Alex was... strong?"

"Well, duh." Peter rolled his eyes, repeating what Daddy had told him countless times, "Strength's all in the heart."

"Strength's all in the heart," Oscar echoed quietly, like it confused him.

"Yeah." Peter gave him a weird look. "So obviously he broke free and defeated the wizard, he just can't find his way home. But you can talk to him, can't you? You can help us find him?"

"I would love to, but..." Oscar sighed. "I'm not certain Alex belongs here anymore, Peter."

"Course he does." Peter frowned. "I want him here. Daddy wants him here. Don't you?"

"More than anything." Oscar smiled softly.

"Then we can't give up," Peter told him decisively, "Alex wouldn't."

"You'd be surprised what people would do given the right reasons." Oscar sighed. "What if giving up made everyone happier?"

"Why would giving up make anyone happy?" Peter didn't understand.

"Well..." Oscar mused. "What if Alex leaving meant your father could have you? Isn't that a very good thing?"

"How come he can't have me and Alex?"

"You'll understand the logistics of that a little better when you're older." Oscar ran a hand through his hair. "But just, say that he couldn't have both. Shouldn't Alex leave, so your father could have  
you and everything else he deserves in life?"

Peter pondered that. Obviously Daddy had to have him, but... "Heroes don't give up."

"They certainly never want to," Oscar agreed, "But maybe sometimes they need to put someone else before themselves."

"Being a hero sounds hard," Peter lamented. Daddy always made it seem so easy.

Oscar shot him a wry smile. "Unfortunately, most things worth doing in life are."

"Oh." Peter wrinkled his nose. "What about fighting?"

"What about fighting?"

"Well, you're real good, right? Was it hard to get that good?"

"Very." Oscar chuckled. "But then, I didn't have much of a foundation to start with."

"Could you show me some of it?" Peter asked eagerly.

"You Windsors." Oscar sighed, but it was fond. "Always itching for a fight."

"Not a real one," Peter insisted. He scooted off the bench, then took Oscar's hand and tugged him along. Oscar conceded willingly, standing up and tucking his notebook under his arm. "Just to help me practice. Daddy usually does right now, but he's in a meeting."

"You're quite the daddy's boy, aren't you?" Oscar gave a soft snort.

"Duh." Peter rolled his eyes. "My Daddy's the best."

"Bet he loves hearing that." Oscar chuckled.

"Yeah." Peter took the steps down two at a time. "But he tells me I'm the best, too. He says I got him and he got me and that's all we need."

"Right." Oscar went sort of quiet at that.

"I mean, knights are cool too," Peter amended quickly. He hadn't meant to make his new friend feel unwanted. "I just meant—"

"I understand what you meant, Peter," Oscar assured him, "You can't imagine how very glad I am your father has you. You just watch out for him for me, alright?"

"Yessir." Peter nodded seriously.

"Good." Oscar shot him a mischievous grin. "Now what do you say I teach you a trick you can use

against your father next time you spar, hm?"

Peter's eyes lit up. "Yeah!"

"You have to admit it was pretty funny." Beatrice chuckled.

"He's seven," Henry grunted, "He's supposed to idolize me, not be looking for ways to kick my ass."

They were in Beatrice's quarters. Beatrice was technically speaking the court mage, not a healer, but Henry had never much liked healers. He preferred to have Beatrice, who knew her fair share of  
healing spells, treat him instead. Besides, he wasn't even really injured this time. He'd just fallen on his ankle a little strangely. At the moment, he was far more interested in venting. Beatrice only  
rolled her eyes, moving to her table to mix something Henry presumed would help.

"Peter adores you more than anything. He didn't mean for you to fall the way you did. Just because he managed to get the upper hand once—"

"He cheated," Henry insisted, still furious, "And I'd bet you anything that damned Claremont taught him—"

"You know it's not right." Beatrice sighed, turned back to his work. "What you're doing? Holding some grudge against a man you barely know just for being related to Alex?"

"I know him plenty," Henry muttered moodily, if perhaps nonsensically.

"From shouting at him across the dinner table? From benching him at every given opportunity despite the fact that he's easily the best knight we've seen in decades?" Beatrice shook hheris head.  
"The man practically acts like he's owed whatever abuse you dish out, I doubt you'd even have to apologize to him. You could simply move on from all this."

"Move on, move on, move on," Henry muttered, "Wherever have I heard that before?"

"I didn't mean from Alex." Beatrice sighed again. "I meant from this ugly feud business."

Beatrice knew the true nature of his and Alex's relationship. Many years ago, Henry had been on a quest with his knights and stumbled upon something called dreamshade. He'd been...less than  
cautious with it, as he was with most things in those days, and caught his hand on a thorn. He'd been burning up before they left the glen, unconscious before they made it halfway home. The  
magical cure for dreamshade—the only cure—was complex and involved someone stepping into his mind, retrieving him from the dream that kept him trapped within. It had to be done fast so  
Beatrice had simply done it herself, completely unprepared for what awaited her.

Beatrice had seen a portion of a very intimate memory. He'd only glimpsed a moment, but it was still enough two very male silhouettes, put the pieces together and quickly wake Henry from the dream so she could shazam them back to reality. Henry was thankful for that, if nothing else; had Beatrice not reacted as quickly as she had, she would've seen something far more… intimate.  
Though, the vulnerability Henry had displayed when Beatrice yanked him from the dreamshade's grasp was nearly as bad. The dream had just felt so real, so right, that when Henry realized he'd  
returned to a Alex-less reality, he'd had to bury his head between his knees just...breathe, for a moment. It was the closest he'd ever come to crying in front of anyone. It was pathetic and a  
display he never should've allowed himself, but he'd believed. For a few hours, he'd truly believed he'd found his way home. Then he'd blinked and it had been ripped away from him.

Again.

Beatrice, for her part, had said nothing of Henry's near breakdown then and nothing since. She'd sat next to Henry on the cot, simply waiting until Henry finished pulling himself together. It hadn't taken long—twenty years of hiding his every weakness had to be worth something—and Henry had turned to him with dry eyes and his calmest expression.

"You can't speak of what you saw to anyone. Not ever."

"I wouldn't," Beatrice assured firmly. Then, with hesitance, "That's Alex, isn't it? The one who left?"

"Yeah." Henry shook his head, numbly repeating, "The one who left."

"I assume you haven't told anyone about the, uh, extent of it?"'

"No." Henry hung his head in his hands, ran them through his hair. "God no."

"I'm no expert in...healing." Henry knew she'd been about to say grieving. He liked that she didn't.

"But if you'd ever like to talk about what happened, I would listen." Henry fell silent. He didn't say anything for a long time.

"I don't know what happened. That's—that's the worst of it. He's my soulmate, I know that he is, but I haven't the slightest idea why he left. Not a damn clue. I mean..." Henry could feel himself  
choking up again, and he shoved it down, hard. "I pushed him. I think. But not enough that he'd... I don't know. If you'd have asked me then, I'd have told you it was impossible for me to push Alex enough to leave my side. Now, how can I be sure?"

"Pushed him?"

"We'd talked about the future before. Not...we knew the reality of our situation, but we made up all these...dreams, these lives where we could be together anyway. All kinds of lives, in strange  
places and times, where we could be together openly. And I...I didn't want it to be a dream. I don't want it to be a dream. So I asked him to marry me." Beatrice didn't say anything. Henry  
straightened, jaw clenched to stop the onslaught of emotions that threatened to break free again.

"He was gone by morning."

Henry shook the memory away.

He'd talked to Beatrice about Alex many times over the years. He hated that Beatrice had seen even a sliver of a moment meant only for Alex and himself, but he was grateful for the consequences. His grief hadn't gotten any lighter, but it was easier to carry when he didn't always have to hold his tongue. If anyone would understand what it meant to Henry that Alex was back, it would be Beatrice.

"About that—" Henry was interrupted by the door opening without a knock. Who would dare to—

"I need to speak to the king," Alex demanded, seeming to be speaking to Beatrice though his eyes were on Henry the moment he entered the room. Naturally.

"You ought to knock," Henry drawled.

"You ought to speak with me," Alex shot back.

"I'm treating his ankle, Sir Claremont," Beatrice intervened, "He's busy. You can speak when I'm finished."

"And I've a meeting after this, anyway." Henry waved him on. It was actually true for once, too.

"I'll find you when I'm free."

"I'll wait." Alex sat on the cot closed to the door, as if to block Henry's exit.

"I don't recall inviting you to."

"Henry." Beatrice looked at him sharply and damn it, Beatrice still thought he ought to smile and place nice with the man who'd fucking ripped his heart out. Henry really should've told her. He would.

Later.

"I taught Peter that trick, but—" Alex began.

"Believe me," Henry cut him off icily, "I am more than aware."

"But," Alex repeated forcefully, continuing onwards, "I didn't mean for him to hurt you. I would never. I know we haven't..." A glance at Beatrice. "Gotten off on the right foot, and I know  
you haven't forgiven me for my cousin's actions, but I would never dream of teaching Peter, or anyone, something I thought would hurt you. I didn't think you would fall the way you did—"  
"He caught me off-guard." Henry grit his teeth. "I haven't seen a move that dirty in, oh, near to a decade now."

"He's smaller than you," Alex replied, a ghost of a smile on his face at the words, "He's got to get the upper hand somehow."

"I'm smaller than you." Alex, the dirty rotten cheater, just extended a hand to Henry to help tug  
him up. Henry begrudgingly accepted. Alex's hand lingered longer than necessary, squeezing his  
own once with a dazzling, mischievous smile. "I've got to get the upper hand somehow."

Henry clenched his hands tight enough that his nails dug into his palms.

"Regardless, I don't like being watched. Wait outside."

"You love being watched." Alex snorted, then tried to hide it in a cough upon realizing Beatrice was staring at him.

Beatrice glanced between them a moment, then narrowed her eyes at Alex. "Sir Claremont, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave for a moment while I finish."

"I'd rather—"

"Stay, yes, I'm sure." There was something about the way Beatrice said it; Henry knew in an instant that she knew. "This will just take a moment. There's only one exit, regardless, you'll catch him as he leaves just fine."

Alex briefly looked ready to further argue his point, but a glance at Henry, who refused to meet his eyes, seemed to take the fight out of him. He deflated a little, nodding in concession to Beatrice before silently taking his leave. The moment the door shut, Beatrice flicked his injured ankle.

"Ow! What was—?"

"You know exactly what that was for," Beatrice hissed with a glance to the door, "What is wrong with you?"

"A great number of things, shall I list them off?"

"I have so many questions I'm not even certain where to begin." Beatrice rubbed a hand to her forehead.

"Welcome to the insanity that has become my life." Henry snorted.

"You knew the moment you laid eyes on him. I knew something shook you up that day, why didn't you say anything?"

"What is there to say?" Henry grit his teeth. "He left. Does it matter why?"

"You've been desperate for an answer for years and now that you can have one it doesn't matter?"

"Yes?" Henry rubbed both hands over his face. "No? I don't—I don't know, Beatrice, I don't. I thought—he's clearly fine. No one held him against his will. No one dragged him off in the middle  
of the night. Had they, he wouldn't have gone through this ridiculous show of being a knight, he'd have come right to me. He left of his own volition, I know that much. Isn't that all that really  
matters? He chose to leave me—"

Angry and bitter, his voice scraped over the last of it. He shut his mouth firmly and turned his head to take a moment to collect himself.

"What he did wasn't right," Beatrice interjected quietly, "But he could've had good intentions. He obviously wishes to speak to you. Is there any harm in at least hearing him out?"

"I'll cave, Beatrice," Henry admitted softly, "One word out of him that even remotely resembles an apology and I'll cave like the past ten years never even happened and I can't—I could barely do it  
the once, if I let him back in and he leaves again, I don't—I can't go through that again. I refuse to."

"He's not going to give up trying to speak to you." Beatrice glanced at the door. "He seems...he doesn't act like a man who doesn't care, Henry."

"I know." Henry buried his face in his hands. "I know that. But a man who cares doesn't leave without a word, either." 

"I thought he was insisting something about a note?"

"He was. Is. He keeps saying there was, but you weren't there for those few years. Percy knows, I turned the whole castle upside down looking for something, anything he could've left me. I imbued meaning into a hundred things, none of it real. I turned up the floorboards, emptied both our rooms, stripped the very bed of its sheets in hopes he'd tucked something there. I turned up  
nothing. He couldn't have left a note, it's simply not possible." Beatrice was silent for a moment, then shot Henry a cautious glance. "Could someone have gotten to  
it first?"

Henry considered that. He wanted to say no, that they would've acted differently enough towards him that he would've noticed, but the truth of it was he hadn't noticed much of anything in the  
weeks afterwards. Any of the maids or servants in the place could've found it and been staring at him openly for ages after and he'd have hardly spared them a glance. But why hide it? Why not  
give it to him? Who could be so cruel?

"It's possible." Henry ran a hand through his hair. "But does it really matter? Maybe he left a note. It doesn't change the fact that he didn't take ten goddamn seconds to wake me and tell me he was leaving in person. I deserved that."

"You did," Beatrice agreed gently, "You deserved closure, Henry. You needed it, and I think you still do. You really should talk to him."

"I need more time." Henry shook his head. "Just enough to get my head on straight. To grasp the fact that this is actually happening and not all just another dream."

"The fact that this still qualifies as a dream and not a nightmare has to count for something, doesn't it?" Beatrice's lips quirked up.

Henry nodded mutely. He didn't mention that anytime he got to see Alex's face again, even just once, qualified as a dream no matter the circumstances.

"Well." Beatrice sighed, crouching in front of Henry with some kind of green poultice. "If you're going to continue avoiding him, you're going to need full use of your ankle."

That got a bit of a rueful laugh from him. "I'd appreciate having it, certainly."

Beatrice took Henry's ankle in one hand and scooped out a small handful of the green stuff in her other. She pressed it to Henry's ankle, really rubbed it in and Christ did that hurt. When Beatrice  
finished, she gestured for Henry to stand.

"Any soreness?" she questioned. Henry stood on it, rolled it around a bit. Nothing.

"Good as new. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Beatrice smiled, but it was softened by pity. Henry loathed it. Beatrice, likely seeing Henry's distaste in his expression, rolled her eyes. "Go on, sneak out the back."

"Back?" Henry questioned with a frown. "What back? Didn't you just tell Alex there wasn't one?"

"I was making sure you had an out. I assumed you had your reasons to want one." Beatrice gave a small shrug then a jerk of his head in the right direction. "Go around the corner, there's another  
door."

Henry was impossibly grateful for it. He knew Alex would be waiting outside the other door for hours if Beatrice didn't inform him Henry had left, his stubbornness getting the better of him, but  
Henry also felt rather vindictively pleased by that. The simple truth of it was, he wasn't ready to be alone with Alex no matter what Alex himself seemed to think. If Henry could finally say all the things he'd had to hold in for the past ten years, if he had to dredge up a past it had nearly killed him to bury, he had absolutely no idea what would happen. He wasn't eager to find out. He  
headed to his meeting instead; if Mike Holleran couldn't cheer him up, no one could.

"Henry!" Mike boomed with a grin as he entered the room. "It's good to see you, how fare thee?"

"I'm doing well." Henry grinned back, because it was hard not to return a Mike-grin no matter how you felt. He crossed to give Mike a welcoming hug. "It's good to see you too, old friend. Sorry  
about the wait, bit of a medical issue just before you arrived."

"You are well now, of course?" Mike pressed, concern evident.

"Perfectly well," Henry assured, "Thank you. I got your letter, but you were vague. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"More trouble than pleasure, I fear." Mike gave a gusty sigh. He glanced at the knights he'd travelled with, his famously talented Warriors Three. "I'm afraid the nature of these matters is rather sensitive."

He glanced at his knights, who must've been told in advance that they'd need to allow for privacy, as they bowed to their Prince then took their leave silently and immediately. Henry was admittedly surprised; he hadn't expected anything more serious than a visit from an old friend. King Holleran and King Arthur had been great allies, and when they'd held meetings in Midgard the young princes would always come with King Holleran to visit. The same had been true of many trips to Asgard, resulting in a strong bond of friendship between he and Mike.

"I much appreciate your seeing me." Mike seemed to sober and it was a grave sight; off the battlefield, Mike was rarely anything but jovial. "What do you remember of your brother?"

"Not much, besides the fact that he tried to kill me in my sleep." Henry half smiled and tilted his head. "He hasn't been by in quite some time. He used to cheat at chess, I remember that."  
That earned a laugh from Mike, but it was rueful. "He did. You know of his magic?"

"I most certainly do." Henry snorted. "He suspended me from the balcony with it once."

"Indeed." Mike chuckled. "And your manservant punched him in the face for it, did he not?"

"Officially, no. But off the record, yes he did. Hell of a bloody nose, that."

"Aye, and he certainly earned it." Mike sighed, leaning forward. "Well… sources say that he’s been spotted in our kingdom, hiding out."

"What?" Henry frowned. "I killed him ten years ago, and besides, we haven’t hear of him since."

Mike paused for a long moment.”We suspect that he may have received some… aid from someone in our kingdoms that helped him escape unscathed. I think it may have been our Sir Richards. Rumors say that he is gathering an army."

"If you need men, Mike, you know I will readily lend you all that I can—"

"It is you I fear for." Mike shook his head. "His vendetta is personal—"

"He wants the throne," Henry realized.

"Yes." Mike sighed wearily. "I have brought my finest knights with me and we will defend your kingdom, should you allow it. This is a mess of my own making, for not catching Richards as the slimy scumbag he truly is long ago and I am deeply sorry for the trouble it will cause you."

"It's of no one's making but Richards and Phillips’," Henry assured him, "We welcome the assistance, not to mention the warning. 

“Thank you, Sir Henry. I have always admired your kingdom and your leadership.”

"There’s no need for that. Now." Henry leaned back with a smile. "Tell me, how do you fare?

At this, a soft smile overcame Mike’s face; “Aside from that, things are all right at home. My wife and children get along chiefly, and my oldest son has proposed to the daughter of a neighboring kingdom. We still need to work out all the details of the alliance, but we will find our compromise someday, I am certain, but for the moment it eludes us."

"Royalty is quite ill-suited for love," Henry remarked with a sigh.

"You speak from experience?"

"My fiancé ran off, do you not recall?"

"A fiancé you did not love." Mike watched him carefully, knowingly. "I recall that much."

"Indeed." Henry sighed passively. Mike had displayed great trust in him by sharing his kingdom's woes. It was not such a leap to share some in kind. "But I am not as heartless as I seem."  
"Nor are you as heartless as you think yourself," Mike told him.

"Perhaps not." Henry shot him a rueful smile. "I loved someone, once. I gave them all the love I had and they took it with them. I had nothing left to offer a fiancé. It's why she ran and why I understood."

Mike said nothing, but it was not an unkind silence. Mike likely suspected if not outright knew who Henry spoke of. They'd been friends many years, after all, even if they didn't see each more than a handful of times a year these days. He knew no one's leaving had devastated Henry like Alex's had. It was hardly a stretch. Still, Mike did not comment on it outright and for that Henry was thankful.

"There is always hope, my friend." Mike smiled kindly. "You said you loved them once. Do you  
still?"

The answer should've taken a moment's consideration. After everything they'd been through, all the time that had passed, how furious he still was at Alex for it all; he should've had to mull it over. He didn't.

"I never stopped."

"Then there is hope indeed."

"There's no way to know if they still return my devotion." Henry ran an aggravated hand through his hair with a sigh he felt deep in his bones. "It's been many years."

"Do you believe their love was true?"

"I can't believe anything but."

"Then time will have done nothing." Mike dismissed his worries with an ease that made Henry greatly envious, clasping a hand to his shoulder in assurance. "Love can be clouded, yes, but never forgotten. You will find your way to each other again, Henry. Of this I am certain."

"I wish for the days when finding was the only problem." Henry sighed ruefully.

"If you've found them, what stops you?"

"If only I knew." Henry scrubbed a hand over his face. Between Mike and Beatrice, he was growing less certain by the moment. "They wish to talk. I haven't the slightest idea what to say. I'm not even certain they returned for me at all, or if they simply returned to their home. And if they truly do no longer return my devotion...I can hardly bear the thought, I've no desire to hear it said to my face."

"You were always so quick to assume the worst." Mike gave a humorless chuckle. "I cannot imagine why they would return if not for you, Henry."

"Perhaps," Henry admitted. But perhaps not.

He wasn't ready yet to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i didn't post over the weekend, they're a bit... hectic for me.   
> anyways, find me on tumblr @itsbr1ghternow


	5. Chapter 5

"Alexander Claremont-Diaz."

Alex turned his head before he could think not to. Staring back at him was the knowing face of Beatrice Fox-Mountchristian-Windsor.

"You're a little taller than I remember." Beatrice's mouth quirked up for a flicker of a moment.

"Shit," Alex mumbled.

"So." Beatrice closed the door behind herself, resting against it. "Ten years."

"Is, uh." Alex cleared his throat awkwardly. "Is the king still inside?"

"He went out the back," Beatrice informed him casually.

"There's a back?" Alex frowned.

"Yes. Why have you returned?"

"Excuse me?" It wasn't the question he'd been anticipating.

"I asked you why you've returned," Beatrice repeated simply. Alex couldn't read her; her voice was too even, her expression free of any tells. Alex wasn't sure how open to be with her.

"England is my home."

"Is it?" Beatrice mused, "Been gone a while."

"I had some things that needed taking care of."

"At Henry's expense?" Beatrice tilted her head. Alex fell silent. How much had Henry told her? Beatrice raised an eyebrow at him with something akin to amusement. "Why don't you come in, Sir  
Claremont-Diaz."

Alex glanced around as surreptitiously as possible. There seemed to be no one around, but Beatrice's indiscretion still made him nervous. Beatrice simply opened the door, gestured for Alex to  
go in. He wasn't particularly enthused about the conversation that would be sure to follow, but ifHenry had gone so far as to escape him out the back door he clearly still wasn't willing to talk. It  
would be more prudent at the moment to find out exactly how much Beatrice knew.

"Your expressions don't hide much, do they?" Beatrice chuckled as Alex stepped inside. Alex tried valiantly to school his face into something less telling, but he'd never been particularly good at  
deception.

"What exactly has our king told you of me?" Alex asked instead of responding.

"Enough to know you didn't leave because you had business elsewhere." Beatrice eyed him shrewdly. "And you didn't return because you were homesick."

"I came back for my friend," Alex conceded.

"Pez or me?" Beatrice inquired.

"Them as well, but I meant our king."

"Ah. Then you certainly use the term 'friend' quite liberally, don't you?"

Alex narrowed his eyes. "If there's something you'd like to say, say it."

"You loved him." Beatrice's expression was still frustratingly unreadable. Apparently, Alex's wasn't: "You still do."

"How I feel is a private matter between—" Alex began stiffly, but Beatrice only chuckled.

"There isn't a man woman or child in the whole castle who isn't perfectly aware of how you feel, Sir Claremont-Diaz."

"I wish you wouldn't call me that." Alex sighed. He didn't have it in him to be surprised; a decade without seeing Henry, it was inevitable he'd be unable to curb his gaze enough to effectively hide  
his regard. "It's no longer my name."

"For now, perhaps." Beatrice shrugged.

A beat of silence passed between them; Alex couldn't resist. "Did he tell you?"

Beatrice nodded. "Not of his own volition."

"How do you mean?"

"Have you heard of dreamshade?"

Nasty stuff. He, June and Nora had run into someone infected by it a few years ago; they'd been staying a small township outside of Vanaheim when a hysterical man had come bursting into the  
bar calling frantically for anyone possessing medicinal talents. None of them were overly skilled, but Nora in particular knew a few tricks so they'd gone with him to see what could be done to  
help. His wife had been pale and feverish when they'd arrived, worsening no matter what they tried and dead within hours. It had been an unpleasant experience and the thought of how helpless  
he'd been still left a sour taste on Alex's tongue; Henry had gone through that? His heart clenched with the desire to go check on him now, despite knowing full well Henry clearly still lived and  
wouldn't appreciate seeing Alex so soon after escaping him anyway.

"By the twisting of your expression, I'd say you certainly have." Beatrice eyed him.

"There was this woman...I didn't know her, but she had a fever of some kind and nothing we did could get it down. How did Henry survive it?"

"The plant isn't medicinal, it's magical; magic cures magic." Beatrice waved a hand idly, green sparks playing along her fingertips. "Dreamshade uses your strongest memories to trap you within  
your own mind. If you can retrieve the person from the depths of their mind, you can bring them back. If the poison reaches their heart they're irretrievable, but Henry was brought to me quickly  
enough. In retrieving him, I saw a portion of one of the memories that trapped him."

"And I was in it," Alex realized. Henry hated him so much now that he reflected on their time together as the stuff of nightmares?

"You misunderstand." Beatrice clearly saw the horror in his expression. "Dreamshade's power comes from the desire of a person to stay in their memory. It draws on only the most powerful,  
cherished memories it can find to use to that end."

Alex dropped Beatrice's gaze. "Ah. So what you saw..."

"I can understand why Henry preferred it to his reality," Beatrice acknowledged. She paused a moment, musing over something, "He thinks I only saw a flash. I didn't have the heart to tell him  
otherwise."

"Otherwise being?"

"Pulling him out..." Beatrice sighed. "He didn't want to wake. Magic only took me into his mind, waking him I had to do on my own. I had to bring him to the awareness that he was dreaming, but  
he couldn't see or hear me at all...nothing penetrated the fog he was in. I've woken a few people from dreamshade before, I have practice. None have been so hard to wake as him. And I've never  
seen..." Beatrice fell silent. Alex both wanted to hear the rest and hated himself for it; he stayed silent as well. After a moment Beatrice shook her head. "Henry adores his son. He loves Peter with everything that he is and is happy with that, don't mistake me. But there was a...lightness to Henry then that I've never once seen in him before or since. Youth played a part in it, I'm sure, but I also believe you took a part of him with you when you left."

"He's made a life for himself just fine without my aid," Alex insisted.

"Of course he has." Beatrice snorted. "Henry functions better than anyone without aid of anyone, he's not a man who needs babying. That said, needing your presence and wishing for it are two  
separate matters entirely and he's been doing the latter for years. By the looks of you, it seems you've done the same. By the way you'd looked at him in the memory I saw I'd always assumed  
your affections had been tampered with...I admit, the fact that you simply threw a tantrum is a bit of a letdown."

"That—it wasn't—" Alex gaped at the nerve of this woman. "I most certainly did not throw a tantrum."

The look Beatrice shot him was utterly withering. "If you weren't yet ready to marry, leaving the castle was hardly your only recourse."

"If I..." Alex frowned, realization dawning. "No. That's not—that was never—is that what Henry thought all this time? It didn't have a thing at all to do with that, I would marry him in a heartbeat!"  
Beatrice raised both eyebrows. It was too late to withdraw the sentiment now; Beatrice wouldn't believe him if he tried, regardless. Silence fell again as Beatrice scrutinized him and Alex tried his  
best not to feel see-through.

"Then what possessed you to leave?" Beatrice simply asked.

"I did what was best for him," Alex insisted. June and Nora had seen his point of view, but they were biased and Henry would hardly listen to them. If he could convince Beatrice of his good intentions, perhaps then Henry would listen to her? "We couldn't get married, no matter how much I or he or both of us wished to. Henry didn't need a husband, but he did need a guard and I can be that now. I can stand at his side, can protect and serve him in ways I couldn't before. You saw me in that...memory, or dream, or whatever it was. A damn wind could knock me down, what good could I do Henry? He needed a bodyguard, not a scrawny brat of a lover who couldn't so much as hold him in the light of day. I couldn't be what Henry wanted me to be, but I can at  
least be what he needs. And that's better, isn't it?" He could hear the desperate, imploring note in his voice and hated it, but there was little to be done about it. He'd chased this question round and round in his head for years. It would bring him immeasurable peace to hear someone that wasn't June or Nora tell him he'd done the right thing. Beatrice's mild expression betrayed nothing. Though it was a bit exasperating at the moment, Alex envied her for it.

"What exactly made you think you couldn't marry?"

It wasn't the answer Alex had been hoping for. Did no one but him in this damn kingdom understand how procreation worked? "The kingdom needed an heir. I don't know if you ever met  
King Arthur, but I assure you he'd have had my head before he let me put his kingdom, not to mention his son's future, at risk. We could've run away, but...England deserves a king like Henry.  
He's intelligent and brave, and kind beyond compare though he does his best to hide it. No matter how much I may have wished to, I could never justify hoarding him for myself."  
"Hm." Beatrice's mouth quirked up, not quite a smirk but not quite anything else. "You're certainly a martyr, aren't you?"

Alex clenched his jaw. He didn't need Beatrice's approval, much as he'd have liked it. "If I hadn't left, Henry never would've found his queen, never would've had his son; I did the right—"  
"What did you say?" Beatrice's brows furrowed together, some mix of confusion and amusement appearing on his face.

Alex eyed Beatrice warily. Was Beatrice suggesting Henry would've fallen for his queen anyway, regardless of whether or not Alex had been around? It was possible, but ugly, bitter jealousy  
flared in his chest with unexpected force and Alex refused to believe it. Henry wouldn't have. Alex hadn't yet seen him with his queen, sure, but Henry had been happy with him. Henry had  
wanted to marry him once, surely he wouldn't have fallen under anyone else's spell if Alex had been around. He knew he was being bitter, and unreasonable to boot, but he couldn't bring  
himself to consider the idea that perhaps whatever love Henry had for his queen would've superseded his love for Alex whether or not Alex himself had been present.

"I said if I hadn't left, Henry wouldn't have his wife and son." Alex stood by his statement, refused to accept the alternative. "He's happy with them, and that's worth my leaving. Henry will agree  
with time."

Beatrice shook her head. She looked like he almost wanted to laugh but couldn't quite bring herself to. "You poor bastard."

"I beg your pardon?" Alex frowned.

"Henry will forgive you." Beatrice just shook her head again. "It's forgiving yourself you're going to have trouble with."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You grew up in the castle, didn't you?"

"Is that supposed to distract me?" Alex gave a frustrated sigh. "Yes, I grew up in the castle. I don't know what that has to do with—"

"Mary Fox," Beatrice interrupted, "Henry's second cousin. Madly in love with a man named Richard Parker. Ever meet them?"

"We played together as children, but I fail to see—"

"There was a fire," Beatrice continued, undisturbed by Alex's attempts to derive meaning from her tangent, "When Henry was...oh, twenty-two or so, I'd think. I was an apprentice then under the  
last mage, more knew of Henry than actually knew him. Accidental and a true tragedy, since it took the lives of both Mary and Richard. King Arthur had already been poisoned at that point, and his mother took to spending months without seeing her son—"

"Poisoned- why didn’t she talk to him?" A pang of regret twisted in Alex's chest; Henry's parents had gone, his cousins lost to a fire and he'd been left alone in the world at only, what, twenty-two? He must've been desperately lonely and Alex had failed him astronomically. Was that Beatrice's point? To elaborate the many times Alex had failed to be there for Henry as he'd promised?  
"Poisoned," Beatrice confirmed, "They caught the poisoner, but it was too late to save them. It was Mary and Richard who convinced Henry he was ready to take the throne, and when they died,  
Henry returned the favor by taking in their infant son."

"You can't mean...Peter?" Peter wasn't Henry's? If Peter wasn't Henry's...and Alex had never seen or heard a word from anyone about a queen... "Henry isn't married, is he?"

"He was engaged for a time, to a Lady from another nation." Alex didn't have the slightest idea who that was. Beatrice seemed to realize. "You might not have heard of her."

"I haven’t..." Alex couldn't help but feel confused.

He'd left for that exact purpose, hadn't he? To give Henry space to love and be loved in return by someone who could give him all that he deserved? So why had the engagement fallen through?

Why wasn't Henry married to her now, running around after a whole pack of charmingly trouble- making squirts?

Beatrice, seeming to sense his question, elaborated. "They were only ever engaged because after the disaster that was Henry's twenty-first birthday, King Arthur insisted on it."

"Disaster?"

"He drank half the wine cellar and announced to the public he would never marry, as love was for pathetic, childish fools." Beatrice paused, mulled it over. "The phrasing was looser and his language much more colorful, but his point was quite clear."

Alex's chest felt like someone had cracked it open. Pathetic, childish fools. He'd made Henry feel that way. Made him feel unwanted and foolish and—and—and how had he not considered that?  
He'd known he'd be hurting Henry for a time, but he'd thought—he didn't know what he'd thought.

That Henry would move on. That Henry was too engaging, too brilliant and dynamic and kind to ever be alone long. He had so much to offer and was so willing to share that Alex had known the  
moment he left ten people would vie to take his place. Who wouldn't fight for the honor to stand at Henry's side? But he'd turned a blind eye to Henry's loyalty, his impossibly stubborn nature. He  
should've known Henry would've come to a conclusion like that, but he'd hoped...well. He'd been the real fool.

"What happened between them?" Alex cleared his throat after a moment, swallowing down the anger and regret rising ever faster.

"The engagement fell through nearly immediately after Henry's father passed." Beatrice seemed to understand his internal conflict, a glimmer of kindness appearing in her expression. "I don't think they were ever in love. No clear reasoning was ever given for the break of it and the Lady left to see the country soon after, though they still exchange letters so things between them clearly  
remain amicable. Something you could've done, by the way."

"I thought...I left a note, but I thought a clean break would be..." Alex ran an aggravated hand through his hair. "Better. For both of us. No backtracking, no wavering convictions, nothing to do  
but stick it through."

"A note would've saved him years of confliction," Beatrice admitted, "I always got the impression he was torn between hating himself for loving you if you left him and feeling guilty for not  
trusting you if you'd been taken."

"God." Alex sank down onto the nearest cot, put his face in his hands. "The hell I've put him through..." Beatrice patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.

"—and then, and then!" Henry laughed so hard he had to bend over. "He ate it!"

Mike's booming laugh echoed through the hall as he joined in, throwing his head back and sloshing his drink in his enthusiasm. Neither of them noticed the first, third, or fifth time someone  
cleared their throat in the doorway.

"My liege," they announced at last, loud enough both men had to look up. The light that lit Mike's face was immediate and breathtaking.

"My lady!" Mike was up and out of his seat in an instant, placing his drink on the side table and moving to meet Lady Holleran in the entranceway. "I thought we were not to meet again until this  
evening's feast. Did you not have matters to attend to?"

"Your warriors' presence is appreciated, but overbearing." Lady Holleran sighed. "I assume the only peace I'll find is with you. You don't mind if I steal him away, do you sire?"

"Go on." Henry waved at them. "We've done all that needs doing for the moment and the patrols won't report back for hours yet. He's all yours."

"Yours indeed." Mike stopped just short of her, then took her in his arms for a kiss that had Lady Holleran blushing wildly.

She glanced over Mike's shoulder to Henry in worry—such public displays weren't exactly polite— but Henry only smiled at her kindly and waved them on again with as much indifference as he  
could muster. He turned back to his drink for a moment, swirled it idly while Mike murmured something to her he didn't try to catch. When they parted, Mike caught his attention.

"Henry—"

"We'll talk more later." Henry drudged up a smile for him as well. "Go, Mike. I won't hear a word otherwise."

"I thank you again, old friend." Mike was too besotted with Lady Holleran's presence to notice anything begrudging about his smile, and Henry was thankful for it. He had no desire to discuss his childish jealousy. "Your benevolence is remarkable and will most assuredly not be forgotten."

Henry urged them out once more and they finally took their leave, beaming at each other brightly, Mike's hand clasped to Lady Holleran's back like she was utterly precious to him. Henry took another sip of his drink, then on second thought downed the rest of it. He was happy for his friends, of course.

They'd been mooning after each for far too long for him not to be pleased that they'd taken up with each other after all. It simply didn't help that he was making his way to drunk and all he  
could think of was how Alex used to look at him like that.

Alex had always looked so pleased with him. All he'd ever had to do was walk into the room to earn a smile; toss a glance Alex's way and he'd be at Henry's side in half a moment. He gave and  
gave, always looking for little ways to show his affection and make certain Henry knew he was loved. It'd been so constant; Alex had been constant. Henry never knew what it was like to not  
have someone light up for him until he'd been left alone in the dark.

He poured himself another glass.

Did Alex look at him like that anymore? Henry had been so busy avoiding eye contact or shouting him down he hadn't bothered to watch for it. And why the hell should he, anyway? He'd just get  
his damned hopes up all over again. Alex had chosen to leave him, to run off in the middle of the night and never look back; of course he wasn't going to be mooning at Henry like he had when  
they'd been hormone-stricken teenagers. Alex didn't give a damn about him anymore. The sooner Henry stopped expecting him to, the better off he'd be. He simply needed—

"Henry?"

Well. He didn't need this, certainly. Henry pointedly didn't look up—he didn't need to, he'd only heard that voice in his dreams for the entirety of the past decade—scowling instead and reaching  
for more to drink. The bottle was empty. Empty? When had he emptied it? He'd only had...well. There was only one glass in his hand, that counted as one, didn't it?

"You're drunk," Alex seemed surprised to realize, but then, Henry hadn't been a drunkard when he'd been around. Everything had been better, when Alex had been around.

"If you think I'm drunk now, you'd have hated me in my early twenties," Henry remarked blithely, "Oh, wait, you did."

"I never hated you—" Alex began to insist.

"Right, just like 'I'll never leave you, Henry'," Henry mimicked with a sneer into his pitiably empty glass, "You're a damned better liar than I ever gave you credit for, Diaz, I'll give you that. I can  
almost understand why I ever bought your sincerity bullshit."

There was a moment of silence, during which Henry did his level best not to look up. He nearly failed, but Alex spoke before he did.

"We shouldn't have this conversation right now." His voice was subdued, quiet. He was hurting, Henry knew, could hear it in his voice though he couldn't fathom why.

"Am I supposed to feel fucking sorry for you?" Henry snorted. "You decided when to leave. You decided when to come back. You knew where I was, knew what I was going through and chose  
to pretend—"

"I didn't know," Alex rushed to interrupt, "Your parents, your cousins, your fiance, none of it. I avoided news about you because it was painful and I—"

"There you go again." Henry shook his head bitterly. "Another decision you got to make. Another measure of control you got to take from me while I got to sit here on my fucking ass for ten years  
and hope like hell you were even still alive because you didn't deem it necessary to fucking tell me you were leaving!"

It wasn't until the glass crashed against the opposite wall that Henry realized he'd hurled it, wasn't until he swayed afterwards that he realized he'd stood up at all. Alex moved to steady him and  
Henry jerked away.

"Henry—"

"Don't you fucking touch me," Henry snapped.

There was a long moment of silence, as Henry finally made eye contact only to watch the litany of hurt play out at his rejection. It wasn't nearly as satisfying as he'd thought it'd be. For the first time in possibly his entire life, Henry looked into Alex's eyes and had absolutely no idea what he was thinking.

"I left a note," Alex said finally.

"Your cousin did, you mean?" Henry sneered.

"I left you a note," Alex repeated more insistently now, taking a step forward. Henry took a step back. Alex didn't try again. "I explained everything and—"

"Explained what, exactly?" Henry barked out a bitter, helpless sort of laugh. "Why you turned me down and left by morning? Why, after spending our entire damn lives together, I didn't even merit  
a goodbye? Why you left me alone in the first place, at the very time I needed you most?"

"You didn't need me—" Alex began to shake his head. Henry, fueled by anger and alcohol and the desperate, pathetic desire to touch Alex in any way at all, grabbed him by the shirt and shook  
the thick-headed moron as hard as he could.

"I have always needed you!"

Alex swallowed hard. He shook his head again, more forcefully, but didn't step back or remove Henry's hands from his shirt.

"I came back to serve at your side, Henry. Not to—to relive old memories."

"Old memories." Henry gave a dry, choked laugh, releasing Alex's shirtfront with a half-hearted shove for good measure. "You mean when you saved my life, turned down my marriage proposal,  
and left me all in twenty-four hours, those memories?"

"If that's how you remember it." Alex pursed his lips.

"And how do you remember it then?"

"I remember loving you. More than..." Alex looked away. "More than I ever thought one person could love another, more than any one man had a right to. But I did anyway and when Phillip  
attacked you...what good did love do you? Nothing. You could've died, Henry."

"And how in the hell is that on you?"

"I should've protected you and I couldn't," Alex told him fiercely, "I was weak. You were meant for this life, the one you have. This is how I fit into that. I can't be your husband, but I can be your  
knight. I can protect you now and that's enough for me. All I've ever wanted is to keep you safe."

"You never thought to ask me what I might want?"

"I know what you wanted." Alex softened. "I do. You made it clear, but—"

"Couldn't have gotten much clearer than marry me."

"You didn't mean—"

"Don't tell me what I meant," Henry spat.

"We were kids—"

"We were in love." Henry clenched his fists. "I didn't have a crush, Alex. I may have been overly optimistic about the future at times, but nothing about my love for you was an exaggeration. I asked you to marry me and I damn well meant it."

"You shouldn't have."

"And you shouldn't have left. I guess we all do stupid things."

"I didn't want..." Alex clenched and unclenched his fists, a sign he was anxious and aggravated.

"This wasn't what I wanted for you."

"Then maybe you should've helped guide me a bit," Henry told him bitterly, "Even I can't read your mind when you're god knows how far away."

"I tried!" Alex insisted again, "I left you a note. I don't know happened to it, but I put it in yourshirt the night I left and—"

"My shirt?"

"Yes!" Alex threw his hands up. "I wrote that I loved you in it, I wasn't going to place it on the damn table where just anyone could read it!"

"My father took my clothes. To be cleaned, he said, but...he never returned them. Said they were too blood-soaked to bother with and threw them away." Henry absorbed that for a long moment,  
before shaking his head fiercely. "I don't know why it even matters, I can't imagine what you'd say in any godforsaken letter that would change anything—"

"I apologized for failing you—"

"You never fucking failed me!"

"I did!" Alex roared. He shot forward as if to shake Henry by the shoulders, only to clench his hands into fists and drop them at his sides. "You were stabbed in the chest, you don't think that's a  
goddamn failure? You don't think that tore me up for weeks, for months, for years? You don't think all I wanted was to go home to you, to beg for your forgiveness? I didn't deserve it, Henry!  
You would've given it, I know you would have, but I wouldn't have deserved it and I wasn't coming back until I could earn it and I can now! I'm strong enough, you've seen me in the field, I could fight dragons for you!"

"I never asked you to fight dragons for me!" Henry shoved him hard, his voice near screaming levels. "You don't think I can fight a dragon? I've got a fucking magical sword and eighteen years  
of practice on you, fuck dragons! I needed you, Alex! I needed my best friend, my lover, my— you were everything to me and that's what I needed, not some white knight with a fucking hero  
complex!"

"I don't fit into your life any other way!" Alex looked desperately upset, but it only made Henry more furious. Alex didn't get to be upset. Alex let him down, not the other way around—  
"You're a king, Henry! I'm some servant's kid you bumped into by chance! I don't get to be your husband, your lover, your anything! I was blessed enough to call you mine once but we don't get  
the happy ending! The only role I can fill in your life is knight and I can't do that if I'm ninety pounds soaking wet!"

"And it never occurred to you that in the meantime I might be fucking devastated? That even if I got your stupid note, I might have one hell of a say in the matter?"

"You were supposed to move on!"

"Did you?"

"Of course not!"

"Then why in the hell would you ever expect me to?" Henry shouted, "I cried myself to sleep for years over you! All this time, I've been caught between a rock and hard place wondering about  
you, wondering what in the hell could've happened to you. I thought, surely, you wouldn't leave me of your own will, that I was yours and you were mine and surely you wouldn't dream of doing  
something so cruel. But that meant you'd been taken, that you might be hurt or dead or lost forever, and I couldn't bear the thought of it so I thought perhaps it was better imagining you'd left  
on your own. But that meant imagining I meant so little to you I didn't even deserve a damn goodbye."

"You would've convinced me to stay." Alex seemed unable to look at him again.

"Would that have been so bad?" Henry was helpless to hide the pleading note in his voice.

"What if you'd been attacked again?" Alex shook his head sharply. "What if you died, because you didn't have someone competent watching out for you? You think I could live with that? I  
couldn't, Henry, I can't—"

"Who in the hell do you think is watching out for me now?" Henry threw his hands up. "It's the same people who've always watched out for me! The same people who would've watched out for  
me had you stayed right where you belonged. I'm as defended as I can be! I have my knights and I have myself and I have never, not once, needed you as a line of defense. I needed your presence. I needed your kinship. I needed your love and you deserted me for what, so you could come back and raise a sword in my name? I have hundreds to do that for me—"

"I left so you could be happy—"

"And any chance I had at that left with you!" Henry shouted, "You stubborn fucking jackass! What in the hell makes you think you know better than me? That makes you think you get to decide what makes me happy? You made me happy, us made me happy. And you know, that's what I understand the least about this damned excuse you've cooked up. I was supposed to, what? Find your note and just nod and smile? Go out and find some rosy-cheeked bride and never remember the best damned thing that ever happened to me? How could you possibly think so little of me? We were..." Henry's voice cracked. He hated himself for it just a little more. "Nothing I could find with anyone else would ever begin to compare to what we had. Tell me you knew that."

"I admit," Alex said softly, "I didn't think—didn't want to think—that you would find a love like ours. But I couldn't have known about Mary and Richard, not then, and you deserved—still  
deserve—the world, Henry. Marriage, children, a future. Peter is...God, you've raised him so wonderfully. He's whip smart, and adventuresome, and as mouthy as his father in all the best of  
ways. You deserve that in your life. You deserve everything, and I couldn't give that to you."

"So your solution was to break my heart."

"My solution was to give you space. I never wanted..." Alex glanced away. "I knew it would hurt. I wasn't blind to that. I knew it would hurt, but I thought that if I stayed away for long enough, that hurt would heal and you would find the things I couldn't give to you on your own without my distraction. I thought that you would forgive me. I still hold out hope for that."

Henry couldn't bring himself to speak for a long moment. Alex watched him in measured, cautious silence.

"If there was any way..." Henry began, unable to meet Alex's eyes. Alex knew immediately what he was asking.

"I would stay." Alex rocked forward half a step, before seeming unsure of his reception and thinking better of it. "Given half a chance at a do-over, I would stay. I left with high hopes and naïve convictions but knowing what I know now I never would have done so. I hurt you without cause, Anthony. I will never cease atoning for that."

The sincerity of Alex's expression was unbearable. He was almost too close for Henry to handle, close enough he could nearly feel the tension in Alex's stance, stiff and restrained and...strangely  
familiar. It was the way he'd always stood when Phillip brought over his friends, who were overly affectionate at best and handsy at worst, always making Alex look like he was ready to burst out of his skin with the urge to come over and steal Henry away for himself. He looked like that now, itchy, like he could only barely resist the urge to take Henry in his arms again. Before Henry could decide how he felt about that, the door was opening and someone was bustling in. Alex didn't move so much as an inch away; it was Henry who stepped back.

"News?" He glanced at Pez with as much composure as he could draw up. Pez glanced between them.

"I'm interrupting."

"No," Henry told him at the same time Alex said, "Yes."

"If you're talking, I'm leaving." Pez shook his head. "Shaan knows perfectly well how to lead a search."

"Just give me the report," Henry demanded with a sigh.

Pez only snorted, shooting another glance Alex's way before turning back out the door.

"Henry—" Alex began.

"We're finished here," Henry finished for him firmly, turning on his heel and following out after Pez before Alex could say another word.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OC- James, The Castle Advisor from Arthur's day.

Henry caught up with Pez just down the hall, took him by the shoulder and tugged him back.

"When I tell you to report, I expect—"

"For Christ's sake, Henry, go back there and talk to him." Pez glanced over his shoulder. "Get your answers before you lose your nerve."

"I don't know what you're—" Henry started, but Pez cut him off.

"You have never in your entire life looked at anyone the way you look at him." Pez fixed

Henry with a look, undeterred by Henry's stunned silence. "What? I'm your best damn friend, you thought I never noticed?"

"You never said anything."

"And you never told me." Pez slugged him in the shoulder.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing, punching your king?" Henry complained, rubbing his shoulder.

"The bastard comes home and you don't even tell me, I earned it." Pez socked him again for good measure, but there was no heat to it. "I mean it, Henry. This 'suffer in silence' shtick has gone on long enough, I'm tired of pretending I don't recognize him. I'm not telling you to forgive the fucking martyr, I'm telling you to talk to him and at least get the answers you've been chasing for the better half of a decade."

"I've heard plenty." Henry pursed his lips, glanced away. "He left. His reasons are immaterial."

"And everything's just black and white for you, with him." Pez snorted. "Right."

"If anyone else had done this to me..." Henry clenched his teeth.

"No one else could've done this to you. Not like this." Pez shook his head. "That's why it hurts like it does. I'm not saying he deserves your forgiveness, not by a long shot. Hell, I'm not saying Beatrice and I haven't entertained the idea of backing him into a corner and taking a few swings. I'm saying he has answers that will help you find the closure you still need, and if he can help you he damn well has an obligation to."

It wasn't about answers, anymore. Henry had answers. Alex had left to get strong and play hero, he'd been stupid and foolish and always, always such a fucking martyr. Henry didn't need more  
answers. He needed time. He needed space. He needed to think, to catch a full breath somewhere away from Alex.

"You came in with something to report, Pez," Henry diverted. Pez scoffed. "Well?"

"A pack of trolls breached the northeast border of the forest," Pez told him reluctantly, "But Shaan can—"

"I've matters to speak to my father’s advisor about," Henry interrupted, "Use that time to gather the knights. I'll meet you by the front gates."

"H, you need to deal with—"

"I am," Henry interrupted again, with a sharp edge of finality, "I did. I talked to him. Tried, anyway, but...I wished for this. I wished for this, over and over and over for ten damn years. I thought he'd return and explain away his disappearance and everything would be...we would be...I suppose I thought we'd be eighteen again, pick up right where we left off as if there'd never been so much as a mile between us, but he's explained himself, or tried, and I just...it's not the same, Pez, I want it to be, I want it to be desperately, but it's just—it's not—"

Pez pulled him into a hug before Henry could finish trying to explain himself, clasped both arms around him tight enough that Henry couldn't run. He didn't have the energy to fight it anyway, just gave in and wilted against one of his oldest friends.

"He left you." Henry jerked away, but Pez just clasped his shoulders. "No, listen. He was young and dumb and he left. That changes things. It's never gonna be the same, Henry, but it can get better. It can. If you want it to."

After a tense moment of silence, Henry glanced away but told him, "Those insistences about a mythical note might not have been so mythical."

"How so?"

"He says he left the note in my shirt; my grandmother took the shirt." Henry pursed his lips bitterly. They'd never gotten on particularly well, but that his grandmother would go that far... "It could've fallen out, but if he did find it there's only one person he would've told."

"Advisor James."

"Precisely."

"Go talk to him." Pez nodded in the direction ofJames’s quarters. "I'll round up the knights. You're certain you want us to wait for you? Last time we ran into trolls it took less than half a day."  
"Shouldn't take long." Henry shook his head. "He knows or he doesn't."

"If you say so." Pez nodded once more before taking his leave.

Henry...well, he admittedly dallied a moment. Alex was likely still just down the hall. He couldn't have heard Henry's conversation with Pez, the castle's walls were far too thick for that, but Henry hadn't heard him leave either. He walked down the hall as silently as he could manage, slowing as he approached the right door. Alex was on just the other side; another life, Henry would walk right in. Would be eager to. Another life and Alex would greet him with a smile, would pull him into his arms without a second's thought. No hesitance, no regrets, no bitter resentment clouding the only good thing Henry had ever touched.

He kept walking.

It wasn't often that Henry reminded James of Arthur. Or even his grandmother, who had been pulling the strings behind the scenes of the palace much longer than any ordinary citizen would have guessed. They had their similarities, but Henry had always been softer than them. There were good points to that, certainly; Henry was better with his son than the royals before him had ever been, could draw up compassion at times when others would've only had impatience. It also had downsides, particularly in that James often found himself disagreeing with Henry's tactics and decisions. He made too many compromises, was too easily persuaded by wide eyes and sympathetic stories. Every so often, however, James caught glimpses so crystal clear it was like seeing a ghost.

Henry entered his chambers without preamble, a right he had but didn't often use. There was a tick to his jaw and a flinty look in his eyes, anger visible in his every tensed muscle. Control wasn't always Henry's specialty, but when he chose to draw on it there was an iron core to him that would've made his ancestors immensely proud.

"If there's anything you'd like to inform me of." Henry's words were hard and calculated. His jaw ticked again. James hadn't seen him this angry maybe ever.

"Perhaps something my grandmother shared with you roughly ten years prior, now would be the time."

James had known this conversation was coming. He'd known since Alex's flimsy excuse for a "cousin" had shown up the other week. The resemblance was visible if looked for, but not enough to give the man away; it was the heated looks and bitter arguments that left no one fooled. James thoughts were drawn back to the note, and he wondered for perhaps the hundredth time this week if Clarisse had truly made the right call.

10 years earlier  
"Come in." Clarisse waved her goblet, gestured for James to enter her chambers. "Tell me, how is Henry? He's returned, has he not?"

"He has." James closed the door behind him. Clarisse wasn't a particularly easy to read woman, but James had known her since they were very young; something was giving her trouble. "He is  
much the same."

"The search was unsuccessful, then."

"Yes." James sighed. "Henry is...greatly disheartened. He hasn't spoken a word to anyone since his return and he's now barricaded himself within his room. I'm afraid he's done something to the  
lock, my key won't—"

"I'm sure he has." Clarisse waved James's concerns off. "But he's stronger than even he believes; he's a Windsor. Let him collect himself. He'll come out when he's ready."

"He's taking this failure harder than the rest," James told him. Clarisse nodded in understanding.

"I told him before he left this would be the final search. He can think me callous if he likes, but he can't continue to drain the castle's resources as he is. It's been two moons."

"More than fair."

"More than you expected of me, you mean." Clarisse Chuckled at James, who lifted a shoulder just an inch in concession. "He thinks I don't sympathize. That's how it is, at his age. Anyone who  
doesn't value precisely what he does and precisely as much is simply wrong."

"He misses his friend. He'll understand in time."

"I wouldn't be so sure." Clarisse gave a wry, humorless chuckle. "Lock the door, would you? Arthur hears of this he'll have my head for what I've done."

"What you've done?" James complied, locking the door. 

"My grandson..." Clarisse paused a long moment, downing the last of her drink emphatically. "Took a lover."

James had never noticed anyone out of the ordinary hanging about. Who could Henry have taken up with? Clarisse waved her now empty goblet in a go on motion, waiting for James to finish the  
mental picture. It took only a moment.

"Alexander."

"Precisely." Clarisse raised her decanter in cheers, pouring himself more.

"It explains much, I'll admit."

"Doesn't it?" Clarisse shook her head wryly. "I knew they were far fonder of each other than appropriate. I didn't suspect they'd acted on it, though in retrospect I certainly wonder how I couldn't have."

He'd caught the looks from time to time, he supposed...but same as Clarisse, he'd never thought they'd actually done anything about it.

"Are you certain?"

"Quite." Clarisse gave a heavy sigh, stepping to her dresser. She opened the small drawer in the top left, removed the false bottom and retrieved the letter, passing it to James. "When I took  
Henry's clothes to be washed the morning after the attack, I found this in his shirt pocket." James accepted the already opened letter, absorbed its contents in silence. He couldn't help the  
climb of his eyebrows with every sentence. It took quite a bit to faze him, but then, the letter fell easily into that category. He could feel Clarisse watch on with faint amusement in spite of  
everything.

"I always thought he was good for Henry," Clarisse mused, leaning against the dresser, "Didn't think of it as a match at the time, of course, but as a companion Alexander complimented him well. He was of strong character, too, in his own right; though he certainly hasn't the build for it I've seen him jump into a fight more than once on Henry's behalf without hesitation. Rather impressively literate for someone of his age and class as well, though I suspect Henry had a hand in that."

"I've caught Henry stealing books out of the library before," James realized, "I always wondered why he bothered when he could come back at any time."

"Class I could've ignored, you know," Clarisse admitted, "It's been done before, and Alexander's been living here since he was young. Anything he didn't know by now he could've simply learned.  
Were he a woman, I'd have had them long engaged by now. The situation being as it is...I admit I have much respect for Alexander. Had any other royal been forced into such a position... I'm not certain they would've allowed another into their heart."

"Leaving to allow Henry to marry...intending to return as a knight and nothing more..." James gave a heavy sigh. "Rather noble in theory, but does he really think Henry would give in so simply?"

"Alexander's own desire to leave a letter blinded him." Clarisse shook her head. "If Henry gets this, if he knows for certain that Alexander will return? He'll simply dig in his heels and wait it out. He'll never take a wife, not while knowing Alexander still returns his affections."

"You want him to doubt Alexander's intentions."

"Not to be cruel." Clarisse pursed her lips. "I'm aware it will sting. But rough though it may be, I believe it's the smoothest path."

"The smoothest path to marriage. Not the smoothest for Henry." It wasn't a rebuke, just a comment.

"One ought to equal the other, in time." Clarisse sighed. She seemed to hope, anyway. "A wife will help him heal."

"She might." James was more dubious of that.

"This is hardly an official matter, don't bother to curb your tongue." Clarisse waved a hand impatiently for him to speak his mind.

"I've always known they shared a deep bond. I thought it friendship, but regardless of its nature a trust of that measure broken is not easily mended. I doubt Henry will see a wife as anything more than a replacement." James fell silent a moment, re-reading the letter. Then he folded it up, returned it. Clarisse wasn't second-guessing herself, wasn't the kind to. she'd do anything  
necessary for her kingdom; still, James knew his opinion was valued. "Alexander's intentions seem true, but he is young yet. They both are. Emotions are volatile, at that age. Only time will tell the nature of this all."

Clarisse nodded absently, seeming to agree. She turned the letter over in hernhands once, before tucking it away again. "Though my grandson will be a fine king one day, he has yet to fully grasp the nature of the crown. Alexander, oddly enough, seems to understand it better: we belong to our people before we belong to ourselves. Henry owes his kingdom a future, an heir, before he owes himself love. I hope one day he might heal enough to allow himself both."

"Will you tell him, then?"

"If Alexander returns." Clarisse nodded. "If he doesn't, the past may as well stay buried. But if he does—and, if he knows my son as well as I suspect he does, that won't be for many years—I'll give  
Henry the letter then. He'll scream at me until he's hoarse, I'm sure, but he is intelligent beyond his years. He'll know my reasons, and he'll understand."

James hadn't envied the choice Clarisse had to make then, and he didn't appreciate being left to pick up the pieces of it now.

"I asked you a question," Henry demanded, the sharp tone immediately pulling James from his lapse into reverie, "I expect an answer."

"There was no right time," James said finally. He moved to his desk, opening the top drawer and removing the false bottom. "Not for something like this."

"You have it?" Henry seemed torn between anger and something close to relief, though there was certainly a fair amount of bewilderment. "You've had that for ten goddamn years and you  
never...do you not have an ounce of mercy in you?"

"Showing you wasn't my decision to make." James shook his head, withdrawing the note from the drawer.

"Whose was it, exactly?" Henry grit his teeth. "Certainly not mine, as I clearly don't make any decisions around here at all."

"Your grandmother thought—"

"Don't." Henry held up a hand firmly, then turned it palm up in demand for the letter. "That's plenty. I don't need to hear whatever it is Clarisse told herself. Just...give me the letter."

James nodded. He disagreed, but he could attempt an explanation again when Henry had calmed. He passed it over and Henry accepted the letter carefully, his fingers running over the edges of the parchment with an anxious sort of care. He seemed to realize he was doing it after a moment, hastily tucking the letter into his shirt pocket and giving James a stiff nod. James gave a  
sigh as Henry left without another word, wondering how long he'd have to wait for Henry to clear the hallway before he could leave himself in search of a drink.

It was a long time before Alex could bring himself to leave the room. Should he have gone after Henry? He wasn't certain. He was never certain what to do when it came to Henry anymore, which  
was unnerving in and of itself. He'd always known how to act around him, when to reach out and when to give him time, how to respond. Now...he couldn't be sure. Time had muddled things he'd only ever known to be crystal clear. He could relearn Henry's cues and of course he wanted to, would always want to, but did Henry want him to? Did Henry want him at all? Alex had never seen him so angry, so bitter and resentful and miserable all at once. He deserved every inch of retribution Henry could deal out, he knew, but he couldn't help wondering if all that rage had clouded Henry's love for him or already dissolved it.

More importantly, Alex supposed, did he even still deserve it? Even if Henry could forgive him, Beatrice had been right; having all the facts laid out in front of him, Alex wasn't certain he could  
forgive himself. He'd known he'd hurt Henry, but to come face to face with the true consequences of his actions was another matter entirely. He'd thrown Henry's trust away on a naïve, zealous impulse, and for what? Henry hadn't found anyone else, hadn't even needed to. With Peter...

God, Peter.

Peter was a blood heir, though indirect. Peter could rule one day. Nothing about Alex's leaving had put anything into place there, his presence couldn't have prevented a fire in some other part of  
the kingdom, Peter would've always fallen into Henry's custody but if Alex had stayed...he would've been there, too. With an heir lined up, who was to say they couldn't have had every  
ludicrous, wildly hopeful dream they'd ever dreamed? They could've married, could've taken in Peter together, could've been together all this time and for all the years to come, could've— could've—

They could've had everything.

The weight of that was utterly crushing. It settled heavy on Alex's shoulders as he fell into the nearest chair, leaning forward and covering his face with his hands to fight back the urge to break  
something, anything, something physical and tangible and satisfying, before he was the one who broke.

He'd left for nothing. He'd thrown away Henry's trust and broken both their hearts and tortured himself for the last decade for nothing. Nothing. He'd been an idiot and a martyr, everything Henry had called him and more. He could've had everything he'd ever wanted and he'd thrown it away on a childish, bitter whim. A tantrum, Beatrice had called it, and a tantrum it was. What would it  
have been? Two, three years? He'd gone ten without so much as seeing Henry's face, he could've easily waited that long to be the happiest damn man in the world. Easily was an understatement;  
two, three years of having Henry in his arms, even in secret, sounded like nothing short of bliss.

Two or three years and they could've had everything, but he'd been impatient and controlling and a Goddamned idiot.

He wished Henry hadn't already thrown the bottle. The shatter would've been satisfying.

He needed to move, to get some of this manic energy out before he let himself explode. He went in search of Rafael, who would be certain to give a good fight and was never afraid to hit low or  
fight dirty if he thought Alex needed a good beating to get out of his own head for a little while.

His quarters were empty, as well as June's. Alex tried seeking out Shaan next, who'd proved himself skilled and certainly wouldn't be adverse to handing Alex his ass a few times, but he  
found his friends along the way.

Well, found might not have been quite the right word.

He slammed into Beatrice as he rounded a corner, Beatrice running with enough momentum to nearly knock them both off their feet. Alex was about to catch his arm to steady the both of them when he caught sight of Peter balanced precariously on Beatrice's shoulders. He reached for Peter instead, grabbing his wrists to yank him back upright.

"What were you thinki—?" Alex started, but Nora slammed into Beatrice's back before he could finish. Peter teetered again, until Alex grabbed both his legs and held him steady.

"Why the hell did you stop like that?" Nora demanded of Beatrice, then glanced over her shoulder.

"Oh."

"Oscar, don't give me that look," Beatrice complained before Alex could even speak, "We were just having some fun."

"You were asking for trouble, running around like that." Alex shook his head. It would probably be funnier if he were in a better mood.

"Aw, Oscar, c'mon," Peter chimed in, clearly mimicking Beatrice, "I know how to hold on, Daddy taught me real good. Watch, see?"

He threw both arms around Beatrice's throat tight as he could. Beatrice made an indignant, squawking sort of sound as she choked, and Alex couldn't help a chuckle.

"Think you might be slipping off," Nora observed with a sly grin, "Better hold on a little tighter."

Beatrice delivered a swift elbow to Nora’s stomach, which did nothing to stop Nora from laughing harder as Peter squeezed tighter.

"Okay," Beatrice wheezed, "I think that's enough for now."

"But then who's gonna be my horse?" Peter pouted as best he could, but Beatrice hauled him down regardless. He turned to Nora, clasping both hands together.

"Uh uh, no way." Nora snorted. "I saw your deathgrip, kid."

Peter turned to Alex instead, pout at full power as he took Alex's pant leg in his little hands and tugged. "Pretty please, Just Oscar?"

Alex gave a sigh of defeat. Peter grinned immediately. Beatrice just looked at him knowingly as he lofted Peter into his arms, gave him a boost up to his shoulders. Peter threw both arms around his neck and nuzzled his cheek against the back of Alex's head gratefully.

"See?" Peter must've made a face of sorts, judging by Beatrice and Nora's amused expressions. "Oscar likes me."

"He sure does." Beatrice got a sneaky look in her eyes. "In fact, I bet you could get Oscar to do just about anything you asked."

"That's not—" Alex began, but Peter bounced a little on his shoulders. Alex had to grab Peter's legs to keep him from falling as he leaned forward enough that he was almost off Alex's  
shoulders entirely, making upside down eye contact.

"Really? Would you take me on an adventure?" Peter's whole expression lit up. Alex was powerless.

"Sure." Alex smiled back at him. "We can have as many adventures as you want."

"How selfless of you." Someone cleared their throat behind Alex. He turned to face a rather impassive-looking Pez. "But at the moment, we've got an assignment."

"Aw." Peter tugged on Alex's hair a little, sounding despondent. "Does Just Oscar hafta go, too? We were gonna have an adventure."

"Oscar does as he pleases. Always has before." Pez narrowed his eyes at Alex. Alex was taken aback by Pez's directness, but before he could respond Pez was continuing, "If the three of you are coming, retrieve your armor and report to the front gates. We leave when the king is finished speaking with his advisor."

"Sir Okonjo-" Alex started.

"The front gates, Sir Claremont," Pez repeated firmly, then turned on his heel.

"Who pissed in his goblet?" Nora muttered.

Alex reached up to cover Peter's ears. "Nora."

"What?" Nora protested.

"So you're gonna stay with me, right Oscar?" Peter hugged his head.

"Well..." Alex glanced after Pez.

Henry would likely be on this assignment; he and Alex had always been alike in that respect, seeking out a good fight whenever their emotions were running too high. He wasn't certain he was  
ready to face Henry again so quickly, even in public. Perhaps especially in public. Henry's disinterested façade might have been necessary for the sake of appearances, but it never failed to make Alex's heart ache.

"Stay." Nora clapped a hand to his shoulder. "Peter, you're in charge of this lug while we're gone and he comes with instructions: no brooding allowed. Got it?"

"I don't brood," Alex protested, but Peter was already nodding vigorously.

"Sir yes sir," Peter told Nora cheerfully, "Y'hear that, Oscar? I'm in charge."

"Yeah, I heard." Alex flicked his leg. "Squirt."

"Lug," Peter shot back, mimicking Nora now. A certain pair of someones had clearly won him over.

"You've been spending way too much time with these this one," Alex nodded towards Nora.

"He better." Nora reached up to ruffle Peter's hair, much to Peter's indignation, with a wink at Alex. "We're gonna be family."

Alex's good mood instantly evaporated. "That's not funny."

"Don't be such a sourpuss." Beatrice rolled his eyes. "I see how he looks at you."

"Wait, Beatrice—" Nora started to intervene.

"We are?" Peter bounced excitedly. "I always wanted a sister!"

"I was thinking more along the lines of aunt," Beatrice mused.

"Not funny." Alex grit his teeth, the urge to break something seeping back into his system. He muttered instead, "Even if I could ever manage to be that lucky twice, Nora’s not my sister."

"Words hurt, Oscar." Beatrice clapped her hands over Nora's ears.

"Beatrice, quit being a d—" Nora glanced up at Peter. "—unghead about it."

Peter giggled anyway. "Yeah, Beatrice, don't be a dunghead."

"But Aunt Nora has such a great ring to it," Beatrice protested.

"Let's go." Nora nudged her along. "You're done talking for the day. Every time you open your mouth his kicked puppy face just gets worse."

"Kicked—hey, I—"

"You too." Nora gestured for him to shut up. "Save it. We're talking when we get back anyway, don't think we didn't catch your Henry Look earlier."

Alex opened his mouth to protest that he didn't have a Henry Look, but it would've been a lie and all three of them would've known it. Hell, Peter probably would've known it.

"What were you lookin' at my daddy for?" Peter asked curiously as Beatrice re-entered the infirmary and Nora left to retrieve her armor.

"A multitude of reasons." Alex sighed. "It's complicated."

"What's a multude?"

"Multitude. It means a lot."

"Like cause he's king?" Peter asked, "Is that a reason?"

"I suppose," Alex answered evasively. If that was one of his reasons, it was certainly a very low one.

"Beatrice says when Sir Pez gets the 'Henry Look' it means he's got a headache," Peter told him, "Does Daddy give you headaches too?"

Heartaches, maybe. "No. Well, not anymore."

"He used to?" Peter crossed both arms over Alex's head, resting his chin there.

"All the time." Alex couldn't help a fond smile. "The things your father got up to drove me nuts. He was always dragging me into one scheme or another, and he always managed to wind up with  
a new bump or bruise, another scar for his collection."

"When?" Peter quirked his head a little.

"When we were ki—" Alex froze. "When, ah. When we've been on assignments these past weeks, mostly. Entirely. So how about that adventure, huh?"

"Oh." Peter seemed to still be considering Alex's slip for a moment, before the idea of an adventure fully registered. "Yeah! Where can we go?"

"I know the perfect place. Where's your room? You'll need a bag."

"It's next to Daddy's, in the west end." Peter played with a strand of Alex's hair as Alex started off in that direction. "What do I need a bag for?"

"Every proper adventurer needs a bag. Your father's the best adventurer I know, he must've taught you that much." Alex could still remember the gleam in Henry's eyes as he'd looped an old satchel around Alex's neck before yanking him along by the strap, shouting about pixies in the glen and-

"You never know what interesting things you could encounter on an adventure, you have to be prepared."

"That makes sense," Peter decided, patting Alex's hair down, "So where are we going? How are we gonna get there? Am I gonna need my mud shoes? Or what about my sword, in case of bandits? Are we gonna go into bandit territory?"

"You Foxes, always so nosy." Alex laughed. "It's a surprise, you'll find out where we're going when we get there. Though, mud shoes might be a good idea."

"There's gonna be mud?" Peter brightened, like any proper seven year old boy would.

"Thought you might like that." Alex grinned.

"Y'sure I shouldn't take my sword?" Peter tried again, "I'm real handy with it."

"Any bandits come after you, I've got all we need right here." Alex squeezed Peter's ankles lightly.

"My feet?" Peter peered down at him curiously.

Alex laughed. "My hands. Not that there'll be bandits where we're going, but should they surprise us I'm better with hand to hand than I am with a sword anyway. We'll be just fine."

"I hope they do." Peter bounced a little. "Cause you'd go tougher on them than the knights, right? Kick their butts if they came after me? That'd be real neat."

"Of course I would." Alex frowned up at him. "Peter, do people come after you often?"

"No." Peter shrugged. "Only the once."

"The once? Did they catch whoever tried?"

"Oh, yeah." Peter nodded vigorously. "Sir Pez says it was a real big deal. They won't tell me what happened, but Daddy said he won't ever, ever come back."

"Ah." An execution, then. Probably Henry's first. Another event Henry could've used his support in and Alex had been nowhere to be found.

"Can I get a hint?" Peter pestered after a moment, "Just a little one?"

"What's blue and rhymes with moon?" Alex queried.

"Aw, not a riddle," Peter complained, "That's hard."

"You wanted a hint," Alex chuckled, "There's your hint."

"Boon? Tune? Dune? Loon? Goon? Boon? Foon?" Peter, like his father, clearly wasn't one to puzzle in silence.

"Foon isn't a word," Alex corrected with a laugh, "And I think you said boon twice. Do you know what a boon is?"

"No, is it blue?"

"It's a treasure."

"We're going treasure hunting?" Peter bounced excitedly, almost wiggling right off Alex's shoulders.  
"Yes, though that's not what's blue and rhymes with—"

"Treasure!" Peter whooped, ignoring the latter part of Alex's sentence. Alex let him; judging by his guessing pattern, Alex doubted he would get to "lagoon" anytime soon.

"Which door, Pete?" Alex asked as he approached the west corridor, pulling a reluctant Peter off his shoulders.

"That one." Peter pointed to the second to last door on the left. "You'll let me back up once I got my stuff, right?"

"I'm not sure..." Alex teased, "You're rather heavy..."

"But what's an adventurer without his noble steed?" Peter insisted. Alex laughed loud enough they probably heard him in the east end.

"What, so I'm just your horse, that's how it is?"

"Duh." Peter grinned cheekily. "Dunghead."

"Think you're going to get away with that, do you?" Alex declared, grabbing at Peter's side to tickle him. Peter gave a giggly sort of shriek and took off down the hall. Alex gave chase, giving  
him just enough space to get to the door before swooping in to scoop him up and tickle him more.

"You're secretly a little brat, aren't you? Just like your fath—"

The door next to Peter's opened. Alex froze.

Henry stood less than a yard away, clearly caught just as off guard as Alex. For a flicker of a moment, the walls between them vanished and Alex could read him like they were eighteen again, young and naïve and absolutely perfect together. He'd clearly heard what Alex had said, or half said, but he'd also heard the fondness of Alex's tone and understood the comment for the display of affection it was instead of the insult someone else might take it for. He saw the rush of longing in Henry's eyes, could see the blur of thoughts, the messy mix of what-ifs and could-have-  
beens all blended together. But it was only a moment, then the walls were back up and Henry composed himself and stepped forward to pinch Peter's arm.

"You're not terrorizing my knights again, are you?"

"No,"Peter insisted petulantly, "He's ter'rizing me, he's using tickle torture!"

"He's a cheater, that one." Henry nodded sagely, taking another step forward to press a kiss to Peter's forehead and advise, "Get him behind the knees, he'll cry like a baby."

"That is blatantly untrue," Alex protested on principle.

"I remember differently," Henry hummed, the beginnings of what might've been a smile curling at the edges of his mouth.

"I remember that if you so much as pretend to tickle a certain someone's neck he'll leap out of his skin." Alex was all but beaming back, he knew, but he couldn't help himself. He felt so inordinately pleased with even the smallest of smiles; not only was it a step forward, but it was the first one he'd earned from Henry in ten years and damn if that didn't make him feel more buzzed than alcohol ever had.

"That was shared in confidence," Henry groaned, a touch dramatic for Peter's sake, "If Peter knows, the whole kingdom will know! My secret's out for good."

"Nu-uh!" Peter scowled. "I can keep a secret!"

"Who reported to Bea whenever I sneezed last sick season?" Henry demanded with an aura of faux sternness.

"She made me!" Peter insisted, "She used a spell or somethin'!"

"She did not." Henry poked Peter in the side, earning a giggle. "Don't you lie to me."

"Okay, she didn't," Peter admitted, before adding hastily, "But I can too keep a secret!"

"Not from me, you can't." Henry pinched his nose.

"Can too!" Peter swatted Henry's hand away and stuck out his tongue. "I have one right now."

"Oh really?" Henry raised an amused eyebrow. "Is it that you've got a little bit of a crush on that Gwendolyn girl, because—"

"Dad!" Peter yelped. He glanced up at Alex worriedly. "I do not!"

"I promise I won't tell, Peter." Alex just laughed.

"I don't," Peter insisted, before pausing guiltily, "But you promise?"

"Cross my heart and swear to die," Alex told him solemnly. He missed the exact moment Henry's mood shifted, but when he glanced back up the almost-smile he'd worked for had disappeared. It'd been replaced with a tight, too-thin attempt that came out more like a grimace.

"And you always keep your promises, don't you?"

Alex wilted. "Henry—"

"No." Henry shook his head, started to walk past. "I shouldn't have—never mind it. Let's just—I was leaving anyway, we've got an assignment. Be good, Peter."

"Henry, wait, Peter and I were going to—remember the muddy lagoon down past that old clearing, through Hangman's Grove?"

"Yes..." Henry said tentatively, "The one with all the—?"

"Right," Alex interrupted hastily before Henry could ruin the surprise for Peter, "I bet it's still full of those. I was going to take Peter and show him. If that's okay, obviously, you weren't around  
and I—but if you wanted to come, I'd really—that'd be—you always found the best ones anyway, I just thought maybe you could—"

Henry put him out of his misery with a shake of his head. "I should go with the others."

"Aw, c'mon Daddy!" Peter all but launched himself out of Alex's arms to grab Henry's arm.'

"Please? It's gonna be an adventure! Oscar says you're the best at adventures!"

"Does he now?" A bit of amusement flickered in Henry's eyes before he tamped it down again.

"Because you are." Alex aimed for earnest, hoping to bring Henry's good humor back. "You don't have to, but I'd really like it if you came, Henry."

The pause before Henry answered was awful and felt absolutely endless.

"I must be out of my mind," Henry mumbled. Alex's hopes jumped. "Don't look at me like that, just try not to abandon Peter and I in the middle of the forest."

The comment stung, but that was okay. That was more than okay, that was fine, was great, was utterly perfect and Alex would happily—well, gracefully, at least—accept a million more jabs like  
that if it meant Henry would begin consenting to spend time with him again.

"Never," Alex swore.

Henry snorted, understanding and dismissing Alex's larger promise, but that was okay too. That was a start.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felt kinda bad about going off schedule so.. here's the next chapter a little earlier to make up for it! Enjoy <33

For perhaps the hundredth time in the past half hour, Henry couldn't help but wonder what in the hell he was doing. He considered, yet again, backing out and doubling back to meet up with the knights, but he'd already sent a serving hand to tell them not to wait; they'd be long gone by now. He shot another glance Alex's way. Peter had grabbed Alex's hand at one point for help getting over a log and hadn't let go since, bouncing along at Alex's feet as they made their way through the woods.

Alex didn't seem to mind, was just beaming down at Peter happily and listening to him chatter away, something about a riddle and things that rhyme with moon. Henry couldn't help the clench of wistful longing at the image, nor the way his heart clung to it.

Perhaps if he took one of the faster horses he could still catch up with the knights.

"What d'you think, Daddy?" Peter twisted to his right to peer up at Henry eagerly.

"Don't cheat." Alex shook Peter's hand in reprimand. "He already knows where we're going."

"You've been there before?" Peter asked, "You've seen the treasure?"

"Many times." Henry nodded.

"How come you never took me?" Peter demanded.

"It was Al—" Henry cleared his throat. He was getting too careless. "Oscar found it. It's Oscar's treasure to share."

"Have you been back there?" Alex asked, carefully meeting his eyes. "Since the last time?"

"Why would I?" Henry shrugged stiffly. It was a non-answer, but the thought of telling Alex how many times he'd gone out there to sit on their rock and wait for someone who'd never come was entirely unappealing.

"No reason, I suppose." Alex looked away.

"Hey, Just Oscar?" Peter squeezed Alex's hand eagerly for his attention. Henry wasn't certain where the 'just' had come from, but Alex was smiling again so it seemed to make sense to him, at least. An inside joke, he supposed. He wasn't entirely certain how he felt about Alex having inside jokes with his son. "Can June and Nora come next time?"

"You're getting a little lax with your ‘madams’ there, Pete," Henry warned. Most of the knights told Peter just to call them by name, but it was still disrespectful to do so without permission. "Did they say you could?"

"It's fine, Nora's gonna be my aunt," Peter chirped. Henry stumbled. Alex reached over to steady him, but Henry jerked his arm away. Alex held his gaze a moment, before dropping it along with his outstretched hand.

"I told you, Peter." Alex sighed softly. "She isn't going to be anyone's aunt."

"He's right. I'd have to marry for that, and we're all quite aware that's never happening." Henry couldn't help the bitter vitriol with which he said it any more than he could help himself from elbowing Alex a little as he moved past him. "Come along, Peter. It's just around the corner here."

Alex followed in silence, which Henry supposed said enough. It wasn't as if he'd been hoping—at least, he hadn't genuinely believed—well. Maybe he had. Maybe a small part of him had thought...Alex had come back, after all. Too late and too stubborn, but he'd come back. They'd fought and ignored each other in turns, but he was back, he was here. He was less than a fucking yard away and Henry...he'd hoped. That was his problem, wasn't it? Always hoping too much, always holding on too long, always grasping for one last chance at something he should've known he could never keep.

"Henry..." Alex started, but Peter was interrupting loudly before he could get anything more substantial out.

"Is that it? Are we here? Wow!"

They'd just passed the last cluster of trees, revealing their destination. It was just as beautiful as Henry remembered it, the grass spotted with flowers and the lagoon just down the hill glittering in the sunlight. It'd been years since he'd been here last. Not a decade, but at least a year or two.

Little had changed. If he closed his eyes, he could almost picture it; taking Alex's hand and whisking him off down the hill with a whoop of laughter as they lost their footing. There was no  
making it down that hill without slipping, it was too steep and too muddy, impossible to walk down so they'd long stopped trying. They just went with it, sliding down together and laughing like idiots. They'd spent entire days here before, stripping down and wading into the water, seeking out its treasures or just splashing around and having fun, spending the later hours lying out on the largest, flattest rock to try and dry themselves before they had to go back home. They'd always returned starved, dehydrated, and burnt brown as berries, but with smiles so wide it nearly hurt. It'd been worth it, though. Everything back then had always been so worth it.

"How do we get down there?" Peter peered down the steep hill.

"We slide." Alex grinned, giving Peter the lightest of pushes, just enough to land him on his butt. He skidded down the rest of the hill, laughing like a maniac the whole way.

"He'll need a bath tonight, now," Henry couldn't help pointing out, irrationally annoyed. There wasn't any real reason for it, he'd given Peter a hundred baths and it wasn't as if taking care of his son was any real hardship, but it wasn't about that. It was about this damn place and how it made him think, how Alex kept fucking smiling at him and how that wasn't helping either. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to wrangle him into a bathtub?"

"No," Alex admitted quietly, smile dropping. Henry expected to feel better; he felt worse.

"It's a nightmare," he snapped, "He shrieks like a banshee."

"I'm sorry, Henry."

"Sorry for what?" Henry spat, "Can you even keep track of it all anymore?"

"Everything," Alex answered immediately, "All of it, I just—"

He reached to take Henry's wrist again, maybe to keep him there since he could likely sense that Henry felt like fleeing, he wasn't sure. He yanked his hand away anyway, hissing, "Stop trying to touch me!"

Alex pulled back immediately, the hurt in his expression not tucked away nearly fast enough to escape Henry's notice. "I don't mean to. It's—old habit. I'll try to stop."

"Do." Henry didn't waste time thinking about how strange it still felt to deny Alex's touch, to push him away instead of pull him in. "You came back to serve at my side not relive old memories, remember?"

Alex shook his head. "I came back for you, Henry. My place is wherever you want me."

"Don't," Henry ordered harshly. Didn't he know how cruel it was to say things like that? "You didn't give a damn about where I wanted you back then, am I supposed to believe you do now?"

"I'll have to earn it." A fierce, all too familiar determination had begun to seep into Alex's eyes. "I know that. But I will, Henry. No matter how long it takes, I swear to you that I'll never stop trying  
to earn your trust back."

Henry didn't know how to respond to Alex's earnest sincerity so he didn't attempt to, just dropped into the mud and slid down the hill to Peter. When he reached the bottom, he stood, brushed himself off as best he could, and scooped up Peter by the back of his shirt.

"Try not to swim in the mud, would you? Honestly."

"I'm not," Peter insisted, "I'm lookin' for the treasure."

"The treasure's in the lagoon," Henry told him, ruffling his mud-streaked hair, "Come on, I'll show you."

They made their way past the muddy, swampy area surrounding it and approached the lagoon itself. Henry unlaced his boots and took them off, putting them by where Peter had abandoned his bag. He then cuffed his trousers and did the same for Peter before letting him run into the water.

"All I see are rocks," Peter admitted, poking his toes around in the sand.

"Hm." Henry bent down a little, sifted through the sand until he recognized the feel of what he was looking for. He lifted the heftier rock out of the sand, turning it over to show Peter. "Nothing  
special about this?"

Peter looked at him with obvious confusion. "It's just a rock, Daddy."

"If you say so..."

Henry couldn't help an amused smile, standing upright again and turning to heave it as hard as he could manage against the large rock formation at the base of the hill. The rock cracked and  
splintered into various pieces that fell to the grass. Peter gaped up at him.

"Whoa," he whispered, awestruck.

"Daddy's a little stronger than you thought, huh?" Henry teased him. Peter nodded vigorously.

"Come on, let's go collect our treasure."

Peter's amazement dipped back into confusion. "But it's still just a rock."

"You think so?" Henry retrieved the first piece, tossed it lightly to Peter. Peter's eyes went wide.

"Whoa!"

He'd picked a good one; this particular geode was filled with purple-pink crystals that glittered in the sun as Peter tilted it back and forth.

"They're called geodes," Alex told Peter, "They're special rocks with crystals inside them."

"Can I touch them?" Peter already had a finger hovering over the edges.

"I wouldn't press too hard, the tips can be a little pointy, but you can touch it if you're careful." Henry nodded.

Peter turned it over in his hands, mouth still hanging open a little as he examined it with stunned amazement.

"Are they all like this?" Peter glanced down at the rocks by his feet.

"Some of them." Henry rejoined him in the water to try and find another. "You want to find big rocks that feel lighter than they should be."

"They're also pretty circular," Alex added, discarding his boots to join them, "And a little rough on the outside."

"Is this one?" Peter lofted a rock up, big enough to almost drag him fully into the water.

"Too big," Henry advised. He ferreted out another, passed it over to Peter to examine. Peter still needed two hands, but this one seemed easier for him to lift. "This size is good. And like I said, lighter than you'd think."

"Can I throw it?" Peter bounced a little. Henry laughed.

"It takes a pretty good throw, buddy. You might need to get a bit bigger before you can do this yourself."

"But can I try?" Peter insisted eagerly.

"Sure." Henry smiled, pointing out exactly where he should throw it. "Alright, like I taught you: left foot forward, right hand back. Little farther, there you go."

"Like this?"

"Your elbow's a little wide," Henry corrected, adjusting Peter's elbow. "Good, you've got it. Give it your best."

Peter scrunched up his face and chucked it hard as he could. He recoiled almost immediately, turning away and wincing almost as soon as he let go. It threw his throw off, but the geode wasn't going to make it to the rock face anyway. It landed with a splash in the water, drawing Peter's attention. His face fell and he looked horribly disappointed, a bit like he might begin to cry, so  
Henry quickly crouched to his level, began to calm him down.

"These rocks are a just little too heavy for you right now, Pete. Give it a year or two, you'll be great at it."

"I bet he could do it." Peter kicked one of the rocks, shooting an embarrassed glance at Alex.

"Can I tell you a secret, Peter?" Alex approached them slowly, like he was worried Henry might shoo him away. Part of Henry wanted to. He didn't though, so Alex crouched down with them.

"When I was your age, I'm not even sure I could lift that rock you just threw, much less get it that far."

"Really?" Peter gave a little sniff, rubbing at his nose, which was a good sign that he was settling down. Peter had always been a bit quick to cry, but they'd been working on it lately.'

"Definitely." Alex nodded. "I was so small a gust of wind could knock me down. You're much stronger than I was."

"But you're real strong now," Peter pointed out.

"I guess that means you're going to be even stronger than me someday, huh?" Alex smiled at Peter kindly.

"You think?" Peter brightened a little.

"I sure do," Alex told him, smile widening, "In fact, I think you'll be the best of all of us."

"Thanks, Just Oscar." Peter finally gave a full smile. Henry bumped his shoulders a little.

"I've only told you that a hundred times," Henry teased him, "But when he says it you believe him?"

"You're my daddy, you hafta say it," Peter protested, but affectionately wrapped his arms around Henry's neck anyway. Henry hoisted him up, going in search of where Peter's geode had fallen.

"Doesn't mean it's not true. How about we give that a second go?" Henry kissed Peter's cheek, then bent to pick up what he was fairly sure was the right rock—well, it wasn't as if Peter would know, anyway—and placed it in Peter's hand. "Alright, stretch your arm back."

"But I can't do it." Peter's pout began to return, so Henry clicked his tongue.

"None of that, no pouting. How old are you?"

"Seven," Peter mumbled.

"My big boy, right? Come on, get that arm back." Henry waited until Peter complied, then, "Now close your eyes."

"Why?"

"You gonna ask me questions all day, or are you gonna listen?" Henry teased. Peter huffed an exaggerated, annoyed sigh before closing his eyes. Henry used his free hand to take the geode from  
Peter's palm and chuck it at the rock face. Peter's eyes shot open just in time to watch it splinter and crack open. "Wow, what a throw, Pete!"

"Da-ad." Peter rolled his eyes, but he was hiding a smile so Henry considered it a win.

"Heck of a throw," Alex agreed, fighting a smile much like Peter was, "Much better than your father."

"Better than you could do." Teasing him came naturally, without a second thought; it was Alex's pleased smile and how much it hurt to see that brought Henry back to reality. He glanced away.  
Alex, seeming to sense the moment wasn't meant to last, didn't say anything further. "Why don't you find us some more, Peter?"

"I find 'em, you throw 'em?" Peter squirmed out of his grip.

"Sounds perfect."

Henry pressed another quick kiss to Peter's cheek before letting him down and watching him set off in search. He seemed to put in a genuine effort to stay dry for a minute or two, but it quickly  
became apparent that cuffing his pants to keep him dry had been wishful thinking on Henry's part; soon enough, Peter was practically swimming to find more geodes for he and Alex to crack open.

"Peter." Henry raised an eyebrow at him once he surfaced. "You know this means you're going to have a bath tonight."

"Isn't this a bath?" Peter splashed his hands a little. He seemed to have given up completely on staying dry, now sitting in the sand with his chin just an inch or two above water.

"Definitely not." Henry warily eyed the slimy-looking plant touching Peter's leg. "Besides, you've got sand in your hair, we'll need to wash it out."

"I do not." Peter scowled petulantly, taking a gulp of air before ducking back under the water. Alex had been quiet for a while now. Henry was torn between the desire to stir up some form of  
conversation and the knowledge that it would only be awkward. What could he even say? Small talk seemed a little pathetic honestly, in light of everything, not to mention somewhat ridiculous—

"You're a wonderful father."

It took him a moment to realize Alex had actually spoken. When he did, he couldn't help the way his shoulders stiffened on a shrug. "I've had practice."

"I always thought you would be." Alex wasn't looking at him but at Peter, watching him with a small smile. Henry glanced over as well. Peter was coming up for air sporadically, but he was busy collecting geodes to crack open and paying them little to no attention even when he could hear them. Alex continued before Henry could respond. "Do you remember when that griffin took up nest in part of the kingdom?"

"Hard thing to forget," Henry admitted, though he didn't understand Alex's segue.

"We went out to chase it out—"

"I went to chase it out," Henry interrupted crossly, "You refused to get off my damn horse."

"Right." A flicker of a smile crossed Alex's lips. "And when we got there, your father and his knights all went after the griffin, but you went right for the civilians."

"He ordered me to—"

"And you always follow orders." Alex smiled a little wider. "Orders or not, I still remember how you spoke to them. Those children were scared out their minds and I'm not sure anyone else could've convinced them to move, but you did. You were calm and patient, exactly what they needed."

Henry needed a moment to clamp down the surge of longing for everything that could've been, before he admitted, "You aren't bad yourself. With Peter. I've seen—earlier, and around. You're  
good with him. He really..." He knew how bitter he sounded, but it was better than letting Alex hear the fear that lay underneath. "He really cares about you. When you leave again he's going to be devastated."

Alex flinched. "Not when."

"You sure about that?" Henry couldn't meet his eyes, just looked out at the water instead. "Feels like a when."

"I deserve that. I know I do. And you can say those things as often as you like, I deserve it, but I'm not going anywhere." Alex shook his head firmly. "I won't do that to you."

"You did it once." Henry gave a bitter sort of laugh. "What's so different about twice?"

"Because I've seen the consequences," Alex insisted, his mouth making that miserable sort of twist Henry had seen far too much of, lately. "I've seen the pain I caused you and I couldn't—if I'd known how much my leaving would hurt you I would never have been able to do it."

"You were my everything." It wasn't news, just old facts facing harsh new light. "And you really thought that I wouldn't, what? Miss you? That I didn't need you? Did I not tell you that enough?  
Did I not make it damned clear how much I—"

Love you was right there on the tip of his tongue, but he shut his mouth and clenched his jaw to hold it back. Love, loved, he wasn't sure anymore. That present tense had been about to slip  
probably said it all, but whether or not he meant it, he didn't want to mean it. More importantly, he didn't want to know how Alex would respond to it. If Alex no longer loved him...how was he  
supposed to come back from that?

"Of course you did." Alex's strained voice brought him back. He couldn't meet Alex's eyes so he watched his hands, the way they twitched at his sides. Alex was trying not to touch him again, he could tell that much. "You told me every day. More than every day, you told me every time we got a moment alone and I saw it in your eyes when we weren't; I heard it from you more than I  
even deserved to, it wasn't that I didn't know—"

"You just didn't care."

"No," Alex insisted, a desperate sort of frustration leaking into his voice. He lost his control briefly, reached for Henry before realizing his mistake and jerking back. "I care, Henry. Don't ever think that I don't care. I'm not saying I had it worse than you because I didn't and I know that but I—it was hard for me, too. Don't think that it wasn't. Don't think that I didn't want to come home to you every Goddamned day—"

"You want to know the difference?" Henry looked at him finally, faced the misery and the desperation all too clear in his eyes. Ten years had changed a lot, but Alex would always be an open book to him. "You had a choice. You got to sit there with all your pain and decide to stick it out. Decide to put everything we had in a box and shove it to the back of your mind—"

"I never—"

"I never," Henry interrupted forcefully, "Had a choice. Not once. I didn't choose if you left. I didn't choose if I could follow, though you better fucking believe I tried my best to. I ran away half a  
dozen times looking for you, but you eluded me every time. I didn't choose if I could read your stupid letter, didn't choose if or when you came back. Every day, you made the choice to stay  
away from me. I never got that. I got to wonder. I got to doubt. For ten years, I could never be sure if everything we'd ever had was just a lie, or if you'd been taken from me and I was just too  
weak to stop it, too stupid to even realize it—"

"Henry." Alex's voice cracked over his name. Alex had always had a knack for filling his name with a speech's worth of meanings, imbibing a hundred different things into one short word. He  
hadn't honestly thought there were any new ways left for Alex to say his name at this point, but there it was.

"Don't." Henry shook his head, turning back to face the lagoon. Peter was underwater again, thankfully, not that Henry had remembered about anyone else in the world for a moment there.

"Just...let it go."

"I'm not sure I ever learned how to do that, with you." Alex's smile was wry, not humorous so much as wistful. "I'll find a way, Henry. I'll earn your trust back."

"How?" Henry finally looked at him. It wasn't a demand, but a plea. "How am I ever supposed to trust you again? If someone had told me then that you'd leave...I'd have laughed. I'd have laughed until my stomach ached. I couldn't even imagine the thought of it, didn't believe it when they told me, didn't believe it when the evidence stared me in the face. How am I ever supposed to return to that state of ignorance? The people we were, the way things were...it's gone. Maybe you should've just stayed gone, too."

He only had the briefest of moments to catch the devastated look in Alex's eyes before a large splash drew his attention. He froze when he saw that Peter had dropped his armful of rocks to  
stare at them with wide eyes. "What do you mean, he shoulda stayed gone?"

Shit.

"Nothing, he just—" Henry started.

"He's not Alex's cousin, is he?" Peter's eyes lit up. He ignored Henry's protest to wade over to them excitedly, grabbing at Alex's pant leg. "You're him, aren't you? That's why you know so  
much about Daddy, and the kingdom, and where this place is, because you're really him—"

"No, he's just—" Henry tried again, but Alex crouched down to take Peter very seriously by the shoulders.

"Peter, I need you to listen to me, okay? You can't tell anyone. Do you understand? Not anyone. Only a few people know, and that's how I'd like it to stay."

Henry loved his son with everything he was, but he didn't for one second imagine his little blabbermouth would be able to hold something like that in for more than twenty-four hours at  
best. At worst, he'd be running off to tell his friends within moments of returning to the castle.

"How come?" Peter was too busy all but vibrating with energy to be too put out about keeping it a secret, at least for the moment.

"I used this name to become a knight," Alex admitted, "I needed a noble seal and I don't have one."

He lied, essentially, sat on Henry's tongue, but he managed to restrain himself. It was one thing to be bitter to Alex, but he wasn't going to disparage his son's hero in front of him.

"But Oscar Claremont does," Peter worked out.

"Right." Alex smiled. "And I can best protect your father if I'm a knight. You want him to stay safe, don't you?"

It rubbed the wrong way. Henry grit his teeth to keep from snapping at him all over again about how he didn't need any damned protection and to stop projecting his hero complex, but Peter  
spoke before he could calm down enough to say it normally.

"Does he need protecting?" Peter's expression was doubting, at the very least confused, and Henry loved him endlessly for it.

"Well." Alex blinked, clearly a little taken aback. "Of course. He's the king, it's a bit of a dangerous job."

"Yeah, but he's the strongest there is." Peter's brow scrunched together. "Have you seen him fight?"

"He refuses to fight me," Henry put in.

"And you know perfectly well why." Henry could see the little jump of muscle that meant Alex was gritting his teeth. That Henry kept insisting on wanting to go to blows was a sore spot for him, one Henry couldn't resist prodding at every chance he got.

"He's real good, though." Peter patted Alex's arm for his attention. "The very best. You'll see. Daddy can protect himself, he promised."

Henry knew where that was coming from. Peter had never been short of people to rely on, not the way the knights adored him, but he was still young enough not to be embarrassed about how attached he was to Henry in particular. Henry had certainly never been against it; if anything, it was probably his fault for encouraging it. When Peter had first come into his care, Henry had wanted desperately to feel needed. He'd lost his dad, cousins, and first love all in the space of just a few years, and here was an infant who not only wanted him but needed him, who couldn't leave or be taken away. So he'd always encouraged Peter's attachment, which made leaving for assignments that much harder. For a long time, Peter had made him swear up down and sideways every time he left that he could protect himself, that he would come home safe and sound.

"You want me to trust you?" He told Alex, "Try trusting me. Peter gets it and he's seven; how is it that you can't seem to grasp that?"

"Seven and a half of a half," Peter corrected seriously.

"Well, if a seven and half of a half year old can understand." Alex's lips twitched up just a bit at Henry, before he glanced back to Peter. "I'm going to work on that. And you're going to work on  
keeping my secret, right Peter?"

"Uh-huh." Peter nodded vigorously. "I sure will, Ale—I mean, Oscar. Just Oscar. Oscar Claremont. Sir Oscar Claremont."

Henry rubbed a hand over his face. This was going to last all of ten minutes. "New plan. Sir Okonjo has brought it to my attention that we're fairly lacking in subtlety as is. I've never required noble seals from my knights anyway, not really. I look for talent, not lineage. Zahra was a spy from another country before Shaan dragged her in here and insisted I accept her defection to us, all proud of himself like a hound with a prize; you might as well just give up the charade and re-announce yourself."

"Do you enjoy putting yourself in danger?" Alex asked dryly, "Is that it? Because I'm trying to trust you know how to take care of yourself, but you make it awfully hard when you tell me you  
go around letting circus boys shoot at your head then turn around and bring in foreign spies."

"Please, Zahra could hand us both our backsides in a flat minute, she's more valuable than our entire treasury."

"I think you're missing my point—"

"I think I'm ignoring your point for the sake of a moment's peace—"

"So, I can tell people you're back?" Peter piped up, seemingly lost by the direction the conversation had taken.

"Sure, Peter." Alex gave a bit of a sigh, glancing Henry's way. "Pez and Beatrice already know, that much I'm sure of. As do June and Nora."

"Beatrice was the one who told you about my fiance, wasn't she?" Henry shook his head when Alex's guilty expression gave him his answer. "I should've known. Mike knows, I'm almost certain. James absolutely does, he's had the letter all these years and I'm quite sure he knows how to read."

"He had—?" Alex startled.

"My grandmother did at first, James came into possession of it after he passed."

"So you've—?"

Henry shook his head, cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'll get to it."

Alex's expression softened. "Henry—"

"I said I'll get to it." He pursed his lips, decidedly cutting off any further talk on the subject.

"Pez's certainly told Cash, if Cash hasn't deduced it on his own. Shaan knows everything, so I'm sure he's aware, and Zahra's kicked me under the banquet table too many times for her not  
to know as well. If she knows, Shaan knows, which means I'm not certain there's anyone left to tell, frankly."

"Aw, but then who can I tell?" Peter looked dejected.

"I'm sure Gwendolyn would love to hear all about the lost hero's return." Henry shot him a teasing smile. Peter blushed to the tips of his ears.

"Would you look at that, he's got your blush." Alex forgot himself long enough to shoot Henry a grin.

"I'm not blushing!" Peter insisted at the same moment Henry informed Alex, "I don't blush."

Alex just smiled wider. "Like father like son."

For the record, Henry was not the one to splash Alex. He was a king, he had composure and dignity and absolutely did not resort to splashing people when they teased him. Peter was the one who splashed Alex, as young, impulsive children, even princes, were prone to do.

Henry was the one who pushed him into the water.

And for a moment, right as Alex rose back up out of the water, shaking his soaked hair and slicking it back out of his face to gape up at Henry with stunned, pleased surprise, Henry could  
almost see it. Maybe it was the place, how all the sun and water seemed to make Alex's eyes brighter and his smile easier, more boyish. Maybe it was having Peter there, seeing how good Alex was with him and how much Peter already adored him. Maybe there was nothing to it but Alex himself and Henry's eternal damned weakness for him, drawn in like the moth that loved the burn of the flame, making excuses all the way about warmth and light. He didn't know. He just knew that for a moment, Alex beamed up at him and he was sixteen all over again, anxious and terrified and completely out of line, but unable to resist the flare of hope that smile always gave him.

He remembered how it'd given him the courage all those years ago to grab Alex by the shirtfront and drag him in, more headbutting than kissing him, really, the angle had been so wrong and he'd put more force into it than passion and his skill had been limited to a couple pecks on the cheek, but it'd still been worth it. Everything between them had always been so worth it. He would never want to go through it again, but he'd take the decade of torture if it meant he got the eighteen years he'd been blessed with, every time. And he'd been trying so hard to be satisfied with that, to accept what he'd been granted and not give in to fantasies, not succumb to the thought that just because Alex was back meant there was any chance at the future he'd once been so sure of, but.

For just a moment, as Alex smiled and Peter laughed and they reached together to drag him in with them, Henry couldn't help the flicker of hope.


	8. Chapter 8

"Oh." Rafael just blinked at him. "Was that supposed to be a secret?"

Henry sighed. To be fair, that was about what he'd expected.

They'd returned from the lagoon sopping wet and hauling a large bag of geodes—well, Henry had hauled, Peter had raced ahead without a care—and after cleaning up and changing into fresh clothes, Peter had raced around the castle to tell everyone he could find that the "lost hero" had returned after all. Henry and Alex had followed after him, offering clarification as necessary. They weren't giving much detail, just answering people's questions with the bare minimum; he'd left for personal reasons, yes he was here to stay, yes he was still a knight.  
The other knights didn't return until late in the evening, long after Peter was in bed. Luckily, Henry and Alex's absence hadn't been much missed; the knights had apparently searched high and low, but found no signs of trolls. Not only were they no longer present at the border, but there'd been no footprints, no broken branches or trampled grass, nothing to show there had been trolls present at all. It was strange and discussed at length, but nothing they could do much about. Before drawing the meeting to a close, Henry had made a point to inform them that Sir Oscar Claremont was henceforth to be referred to as Sir Alexander Claremont-Diaz. He could admit, he hadn't been expecting any particular shock, but Rafael's words still hit a nerve.

"It was something unaddressed," Henry allowed, "And now it has been."

"Will this be announced to the public as well, or will this remain strictly within the knights?" Zahra asked.

"Various people within the castle have already been informed," Henry clarified, "There won't be any official announcement, but it's no secret and he's to be addressed henceforth as Sir Claremont-Diaz. Word will get around quickly enough on its own. Are there any other questions?"

No one asked any further questions, but Henry could see them all fidgeting, clearly waiting for  
someone to voice...something.

"Well?" Henry sighed. "What is it?"

"I nominate Rafael." Pez glanced around the room.

"Seconded," Shaan put in. Rafael glared at the others when they began nodding along, but Henry just waved an impatient hand.

"Speak."

Rafael squirmed a bit, glanced at Alex. "You can't blame us for wanting to know. Your disappearance was the mystery of the century, aren't you going to at least tell us why you left?"

"My reasons were personal." Alex repeated the same line he had all day. "And misguided, regardless. What's important is that I'm here and that I'm staying."

"At least until he finds himself 'misguided' again, anyway." The words were plucked right from Henry's bitter thoughts, but to everyone's surprise it was Pez who'd actually gone and said it.

"Think what you will." The muscle in Alex's jaw ticked; he was frustrated. "You have every reason to doubt me, I understand that. But you'll see in time that I mean every word."

"Let's hope that you do." For all that his words were harmless enough, Pez's tone made it perfectly clear that he was doing nothing short of threatening Alex to his face in a room full of  
knights. It was a bold move and Pez all over.

"Maybe take it down a notch there." June eyed him. "He said he meant well. Give him half a chance and he'll prove it."

"Give me half a reason to," Pez countered.

"That's enough, Pez," Henry warned.

"My point." Pez glanced once more at Alex, assessing this time, before returning his gaze to Henry. "Is that we're supposed to trust him implicitly. That's the entire point of the knights' circle, but the last time he was needed he vanished without a trace. It's not a record that speaks highly of him."

"I wouldn't call it a record, it only happened once and there were extenuating—" Nora began to defend Alex and June looked just as ready to jump in, but Henry was tired of not being listened to.

"I said enough!" he commanded, "This isn't up for debate. Diaz is and will continue to be a knight, end of story."

"Do you trust him?" Zahra had been an almost silent observer up to that point, but Henry was entirely unsurprised her comment was the one to drive right to the heart of the problem. She'd always had a knack for that.

Henry looked to Alex. "To guard and serve the kingdom to the best of his ability? Without question."

Hurt flickered over Alex's face. He seemed to try and reign it in, but it was clear enough he'd heard what Henry didn't say: that he trusted Alex not to endanger him, but not with anything else.

"Then the rest is personal and not of my concern." Zahra glanced around the room, clearly implying to the others they ought to follow her example. "If that's all?"

Her restraint in leaving his personal life alone would be more impressive if Henry didn't know full well she was going to back him into a corner and pry the details out of him later. He just nodded.  
"That'll be all."

She offered him a small smile as she passed, taking her leave. The others followed with varying degrees of reluctance. They were clearly unsatisfied with the lack of answers, but knew better than to press the subject. Pez shot him a look as he left, indicating they'd be talking about this later.

Henry had expected nothing less. Once they'd vacated, Alex moved forward, started to say something. Henry took two steps back and Alex closed his mouth.

"I'm glad the air is clear," Henry said after a beat of silence, "It's a step towards moving past all This."

Alex nodded mutely. He dropped his gaze to the floor, took a breath. He was gathering the courage to say something, Henry knew, could recognize the signs.

"Earlier," Alex said eventually, "Before Peter overheard—"

Maybe you should've just stayed gone.

"I don't know," Henry interrupted tersely.

"You didn't let me—"

"Finish?" Henry cut him off again, offered a rueful, bitter smile. "You really think I need to, by now? You want to know if I meant it, and I don't know. What do you want me to say? You left.  
And yes, I hated it. Every minute, I fucking hated it. But I got used to it. I hated it and I wished things were different, but I got by and I got better. I have Peter, and I have Pez and Happy and the knights and I'm getting better. I was, anyway."

"I'm sorry," Alex's voice was whisper-quiet as his expression went shuttered, and he shook his head, "And it's not enough, I know it isn't, but it's all I have. I want you to be happy, Henry. That's all I've ever wanted. If things are easier for you with me gone..."

Alex didn't have to elaborate what he was offering; Henry could hear every self-doubting, self- loathing thought running through Alex's head likely as easily as Alex himself could. It still made him furious.

"If you want to leave, fucking leave," Henry spat.

"I don't want to." Alex insisted immediately, stepping forward again, "I don't and I never will, I just—I want to make this easier for you, Henry, however I can. If you were happier with me gone—"

"Oh yes, I was a real peach about it, haven't you heard?" Henry jerked away from him. "Christ, Alex. Why is everything extremes, with you? You were gone for ten fucking years, forgive me if  
I didn't spend every moment sobbing my eyes out. I had good moments. Good days, good months, good years; I have my friends and my knights and a son I love with all my heart, you better believe the time I've had with him makes me happy as hell. I can be happy and still miss you like a body part, I can be confused and frustrated and still be damn glad you're alive and standing here in front of me. If I haven't been clear enough about the fact that you being alive and here means the fucking world to me, well, it's because every time I see your face I wait for it to fade away."

"Henry." Alex's expression crumpled, and god, he said his name just like he always used to when they were alone, like Henry was the only important thing in his world. "I swear to you—"

"You're not going anywhere, you've said, but that's not—" Henry waved a hand and took a step back, because Alex was gravitating closer again and that wasn't—he couldn't handle that too. He could talk about his stupid damn emotions or he could be a little closer to Alex, but he certainly couldn't do both. "I didn't mean it like that. I meant...I meant I used to dream about this sort of thing, you know? Ten years, you think I didn't imagine every possible way you could come home to me? I spent ten years waking up and reaching for someone who wasn't there, waking up and realizing it wasn't real and you were still gone and I don't trust myself with this, anymore. I keep looking at you and waiting to—to wake up, to blink and have you disappear—"

"I'm here," Alex interrupted softly, stepping forward again slowly to take Henry by the shoulders, "I'm here and I'm real and I'm never leaving you, Henry. Not again. I promise."

Alex had always had large hands. For all that he'd grown, his touch felt just the same, painfully familiar and impossible not to give in to. Henry drifted forward, just the slightest bit, but that was all it took for Alex to drop his hands from Henry's shoulders to around him, wrapping him up in his arms and embracing him tightly. Henry tucked his head into Alex's neck, his ear to Alex's pulse-point— heart was racing too, at least Henry wasn't alone—and just completely crumpled against him. Alex didn't so much as sway with his weight, supported him easily and firmly and that was...different. Alex had held him back then a thousand times, but he'd been smaller, shorter and skinnier with much less bulk to him. He was just as warm and gentle as Henry remembered and for all the differences, it was still absolutely perfect.

Henry wasn't certain he'd have ever let go if someone hadn't knocked on the door. Shaan entered a split second after they separated and for a moment Henry worried he might have seen—he was under no delusions, he knew everyone was aware enough of the complex nature of their relationship, but he had no desire to field any questions about it—then he caught sight of Shaan's expression and his worries evaporated before increasing twofold. Shaan looked more unnerved than Henry had seen him in years. He sobered fast, any remaining sentimentality evaporating.

"What's happened?"

"Dragons," Shaan told him breathlessly. Which was a surprise, of course, but they'd dealt with them before and there was no need for such panic— "Three of them, half a mile from the town square —"

That was all Henry needed to hear. Good god, dragons this close to civilians—

"Suit up," he instructed Alex and Phil, leaving with haste to retrieve his armor as well, "Find and tell the others, we need to move now."

They stayed out in search of the threat into the early, pre-dawn hours, but found nothing. Everyone they spoke to had seen the flying beasts tearing through the skies, bellowing fire and screeching loud enough to wake the dead, but no one could attest to them landing. There were no signs of burnt buildings, no livestock eaten, no women stolen from their homes. The incident had the same mysterious qualities as the disappearance of the trolls; a coincidence or a yet-determined pattern, Henry couldn't be sure. It made him anxious nonetheless.

"We've given this time enough," June argued, "There aren't any damn dragons, I'm telling you—"

"We can't just give up." Rafael twisted around on his horse to make a face at June.

"I'm not saying we give up," June insisted, "I'm saying we've been searching for hours and there clearly isn't any threat. We could at least make camp for the night, continue searching in the morning."

"She might have the right idea," Mike acknowledged. Mike was experienced with dragons and had elected to come with them to offer assistance. "Unless the English know tricks we do not, there isn't much to be seen in this darkness."

"We've given it hours without a single sign of presence." Henry pulled his horse to a stop, turning to address the group, "For whatever reason, it seems they were only circling and I don't like the sound of that much more than I liked the sound of them in our square. We'll camp here. If nothing else, we'll be prepared when they return. We'll do a three-man watch, I want no surprises."

"Thank god." Nora slid off her horse immediately. "Two hours sleep, that's all I ask."

"I can take a first shift," Shaan offered as they all began to follow Nora's lead and dismount from their horses.

"Same here." Cash nodded. "I got plenty of sleep last night."

"I wouldn't sleep well with the thought of dragons flying over my head, anyway," Pez agreed, "I'll start as well."

What remained of the night passed in peace; no dragons were so much as heard, much less seen.

Henry still felt wary about it all, but come morning there was nothing to do but return to the castle.

They certainly weren't leisurely, but they didn't concern themselves with making any haste until they were close enough to spot the smoke in the distance. It couldn't be the castle for sure, they  
were too far out, but it was in the right direction and something in Henry's gut told him they'd been duped.

He alerted the others and they doubled their speed, Henry's mind racing all the while. The supposed trolls had likely been a distraction as well, intended to draw them out. But why not attack the castle the first time? He hadn't been on the mission, but he hadn't been in any position to defend the castle, either. Everyone who'd been gone this time had been gone the first time, if perhaps to a different place. So why attack now, if not then? The castle wasn't any less protected now than it had been. Not to mention, what purpose could this serve? Henry suspected Richards's involvement, of course— the trolls and dragons had likely been illusions, something Richards had always enjoyed dabbling in— but wasn't it Mike that Richards sought to hurt? He could go after Mike’s wife now, but the soldiers in Henry's guard were very capable, not to mention numerous, and even the threat of dragons wouldn't be enough to keep the knights away long without proof of their presence or reason to stay and fight.

And it would indeed need to be a physical battle; there were wards in the castle to defend against the kind of magic Richards and others like him used. He would be unable to sneak in invisibly, or appear as someone he wasn't. Perhaps he'd been unaware of that, the first time? Thus the second attempt? Henry couldn't be sure. No, he must've known, he'd been greatly irritated by them at his last visit.

"Mike," Henry called over his shoulder, "You wouldn't happen to have any insight here?"

"Misdirection was always Richards’ favored ploy." Mike's expression was stormy. His rage was well known and well feared; Henry felt absently thankful he was on their side. "I have no doubts he is behind this. What I doubt is that he was able to gather enough of an army in such a short time to think besieging your castle a wise move. It is with much respect that I say your defenses are widely known to be resilient as iron, something he surely knows. I worry things are not as simple as they appear."

"The smoke could be an illusion too," Zahra reasoned.

"Aye." Mike nodded, then shook his head with a frustrated huff. "Or not. He is...not as I knew him, as of late. He jumps to many conclusions I cannot understand, attacking your castle now... partnering with your brother... they might be another example. I know not."

"We can't not go back," Pez insisted, "Maybe it's an illusion, but if it's not those are our friends and I'm sure as hell not leaving them to burn."

"It could be a trap," Rafael warned, "I'm not saying we shouldn't go back, but we might want to think it through before we go charging off exactly as Richards expects us to."

"You're saying what?" Shaan considered, "That we take a different route?"

"But that'll take longer," June argued, "And people could be in danger now."

"We're knights." Alex agreed. "If it's a trap, we can handle that bridge when we come to it."

"If it is a trap..." Happy pointed out thoughtfully, "Why didn't he pull whatever he was planning the first time? If he wanted all of us gone, he could've just as easily taken us out then and Henry and Alex later. It'd probably have even been easier."

"He's likely after Henry specifically," Mike put in gravely, "You have the most power to stop him from achieving what he wants, and a kingdom without a leader is a kingdom at its weakest."

"And out here he can use all the magic he wants," Henry scowled. "Great. Have I mentioned how much I—"

"Hate magic with all of your heart and soul," Pez intoned as the others laughed, "Yes. You have."

"Laugh it up." Henry rolled his eyes at them. "You won't be laughing when I'm dead from whatever head-exploding, gut-shriveling curse Richards flings my way."

"You're going to outlive us all through sheer force of will." Zahra snorted.

"When I go out in the blaze of glory I demand to, I fully expect you in tears and reading a ten-page apology to my lifeless body," Henry shot back.

"Hm." Zahra appeared to consider it. "Depends on how you go. If it's your own bullheadedness that takes you down, all you're getting is an 'I told you so'."

"If I didn't know you better, Bankston, I'd be offended."

"You seem fairly offended," June pointed out.

"Well, you seem—"

"Henry!"

Even as he heard his name, Henry was being shoved off his horse and to the side. There was a moment of disgruntled confusion before the person who'd shoved him followed, tumbling over both their and Henry's horse to land with a heavy thud on top of him on the ground.

"Christ." Henry gasped for air, because Christ, the ground was hard and whoever had slammed into him was heavy. Henry glanced up to read them—Alex, of course, it was always fucking Alex—the riot act, when he saw the cut on his neck. "You idiot, that could've gone through your throat. What in the hell were you thinking?"

He caught sight of the arrow a foot away, and the others must've as well since they immediately moved to action. They drew their swords and shields, circling around Henry in defense, but no further arrows came.

"Woulda gone through you," Alex told him firmly, but the slur in his voice was concerning.

"Alex?" Henry hedged. Alex slumped forward. Henry patted his face, then shoved at shoulder, but Alex had gone boneless. "Is this supposed to be funny? Look sharp, Diaz, it's just a nick. You're alright."

Henry tried to hoist Alex off him, but a boneless Alex was much heavier than expected. It really was only a nick—it'd already stopped bleeding—so what the hell was going on? Henry managed  
to roll Alex off him and onto his back, but his eyes were closed and his breathing was slowing in a way that immediately screamed poison. Henry's blood ran cold.

"Fetch the arrow, it was laced!" Henry ordered to whoever decided to listen, giving Alex's shoulders a hard shake and slapping at his cheek. "Wake up, you bastard, this isn't funny."

"I'm fine..." Alex tried, his eyes opening again briefly, but contradicted himself with a groan of pain.

Henry shifted him, tried to hoist him upwards. Elevate the head, right? Wasn't that supposed to help? He thought he could remember hearing that somewhere, but couldn't remember for certain.

He knew nothing about healing, had never paid attention in lessons and always relied on Beatrice for treatments. Poison, poison, what the hell did one do about poison? He pressed a hand to Alex's forehead. It was already burning to the touch. He tried to haul Alex up, so they could get him on a horse and back to the castle, back to Beatrice, but Alex clutched at Henry's arm tight enough Henry winced. June and Nora dismounted to assist him, June going to Alex's other side and Nora pulling Alex's horse closer so they could put him over it. Most of the others stayed in formation, huddling around them for protection from further attacks. Rafael had pinpointed the direction from which the arrow had come and was long gone in that direction, Shaan and Zahra with him.

"Damned idiot," June bitched as he helped hoist Alex up.

"Damned idiot," Henry agreed resoundingly, "I would've seen it, I'd have been fine, but you always have to do this, don't you, play the fucking hero since you can't trust me to handle myself for ten damn seconds—"

"I am—ah—trusting you." Alex gripped his arm tighter and Henry let him, didn't say a word despite being fairly sure he'd have bruises later. "I am, Henry, I am, I'm trusting you to get me outta my own head and bring me back, okay? I—if this does what I think it does—I'm not gonna want to come back, but you can do it. You can bring me back, cause I'm always gonna come back for you—"

"Don't even start with that," Henry snapped, fear driving him more than any sense of irritation, "You're going to be fine, I'm not letting you off that easy."

"Hey, you're too stubborn for death, remember?" June shook Alex's shoulder, "Didn't suit you, right? Come on, buddy, keep those eyes open."

Alex's consciousness waned; Henry and June's combined efforts were barely enough to keep him up. Panic constricted Henry's lungs.

"Don't you dare fucking faint on me, you bastard—"

"Henry," Alex mumbled at the sound of his voice, eyes flickering open briefly, but it was without intent.

"I'm right here, just look at me, alright?" When Alex didn't respond, Henry almost stopped breathing for a few seconds before continuing to shake him and plead, "Please, Alex, come on darling, you love hearing the please, right? I'm asking, Alex, I'm asking, come on, please, stay with me—"

Alex turned at the sound of his voice, but he couldn't quite manage to keep his eyes open. After a moment his head lolled back, and he didn't open his eyes again.

"Shit," June muttered, shaking Alex harder and voicing Henry's internal panicked monologue, "Shit, fuck, fucking shit—"

"Get him up." Nora was calmer than the both of them, thank god, and pushed them both forward so the three of them could lift Alex up onto the horse. Henry took half a second to close his eyes  
and take a deep breath, then quickly returned to his own horse and pulled himself up.

"Let's move," he ordered. The knights fell into line behind him, no further debate about their destination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soz!


	9. Chapter 9

_"C'mere!"_

_Alex ducked just out of Henry's reach, laughing before diving back under the water. It was nice today, just warm enough for the cool water to feel a bit like a dream, with enough of a breeze to  
help them dry off later. At the moment, though, he was hardly admiring the weather._

_"What? His royal highness can't catch lil old me?" Alex taunted when he surfaced again, shooting a proud grin Henry's direction._

_"It's not my fault you swim like a fish," Henry grumbled good-naturedly, with all the grouchiness a ten-year-old could muster, "It's cause you're all bony, they think you're one of them, like a merboy or something."_

_"You're just jealous." Alex stuck his tongue out._

_"Of what? You?" Henry lifted his chin. "Not a chance."_

_"How d'you think I'd look?" Alex pondered, "As a merboy, and all?"_

_"I don’t know." Henry's nose wrinkled up as he thought about it. "I bet you'd smell awful though."_

_"What d'you care what I smell like?" Alex made a face._

_"I don't care at all, dummy." Henry waded closer, shoved him a little. "But what, you want to smell like fish all the time?"_

_"If it meant I could be a merboy, that'd be a pretty good trade, I guess," Alex reasoned._

_"You already swim like one, why would you need to be a merboy?" Henry scoffed._

_"I dunno. The tail?" Alex grinned. "Wouldn't I look cool with a tail?"_

_"You would look dumb, like always." Henry shoved him into the water and started stomping off._

_"Hey!" Alex yelped when he surfaced. "What was that for? And where are you going?"_

_"Go play with your fish friends if you wanna be a merboy so bad,ly" Henry informed him, "What do you need me for?"_

_"Well, I don't wanna be a merboy if you aren't one too," Alex told him, because how was that  
even an option? "Duh."_

_Henry paused in his show of stomping off. The back of his neck went a little red; he was embarrassed now. Alex grinned._

_"Besides, fish would make stupid friends."_

_"Shut up," Henry mumbled._

_"I'm serious! Fish don't do nothin'. They don't go on adventures, they don't know how to swordfight—"_

_"Neither do you." Henry snorted at him._

_"I'm learnin'." Alex made a face at him._

_"Learning slow." The smile was starting to return to Henry's face._

_"And what'm I supposed to talk to a fish about, huh?" Alex waded over to where Henry was. "How to swim? I know how to swim. Better than you, anyway."_

_He shoved Henry in. Henry gave a sputter of surprise before his arms pinwheeled and he hit the water with a splash. His head popped up a minute later, and he spit water at Alex's face._

_"Gross!" Alex complained, "That was in your mouth, Henry!"_

_"So what?" Henry taunted, "Are you scared you're going to catch my cooties?"_

_"No," Alex insisted mulishly, even as he wiped his face of , because he was ten now and ten year olds weren't afraid of cooties, that was stupid, he just had water in his eyes._

_"You are!" Henry grinned wickedly._

_"Am not!"_

_"Are too!"_

_"Am not!"_

_Henry grabbed Alex's arm and blew a slobbery raspberry onto it. Alex yanked his arm away quick as he could and shoved Henry back into the water. He wiped Henry's spit off, while Henry resurfaced with a laugh._

_"You are afraid of my cooties!"_

_Alex scowled at him, but he just laughed harder. So Alex bent down to suck up some of the lagoon water and spit it out hard as he could in Henry's face. Henry shrieked his name louder than a banshee._

_"Who's afraid of cooties now?" Alex stuck his tongue out at him._

_"You used more water than I did!" Henry complained._

_"You spit on my arm!"_

_Henry tackled him first, but Alex had been raring to do so anyway, and they both hit the water with plenty of fight. By they time they had finished wrestling and catching their breath, they had  
both forgot what they were play-fighting about in the first place. It wasn't until later, while they were lying out on one of the rocks to sun-dry themselves, that Henry leaned up on his elbow and glanced over at him._

_"Hey, Alex?"_

_"Huh?" Alex had his eyes closed, half-asleep in the warm sun._

_"Do you really think I have cooties?"_

_"Nah. You're a boy."_

_Henry, finding this answer acceptable, laid back down and closed his eyes. Another minute's silence passed, then, "If I was a girl, would you think I had cooties?"_

_Alex considered that a moment, then shrugged. "Prob'ly."_

_"Ew."_

_A thought occurred to Alex. He glanced over. "Hey, Henry?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"If I was a girl, would you still wanna be friends?"_

_"Duh."_

_"Even though I'd have cooties?"_

_"Alex, you could have the black plague and I'd still be your friend. I wouldn't touch you or anything, but I'd visit you all the time and read you stuff and make my Bea find a way tomake you better." Henry paused a moment, thinking. "Plus, I don't think Beatrice has cooties. Or my mom. Maybe some girls don't. I bet if you were a girl, you'd be the kind that doesn't have 'em."_

_"You too, Henry." Alex grinned to himself and closed his eyes again. Yeah. Him and Henry not friends? What a stupid thought._

They returned to a castle with no fire or breached defenses, nothing more than a bunch of guards and staff confused about the strange smoke that seemed to stem from nowhere at all. They took Alex straight through to Beatrice's quarters, where Henry demanded—he wished he could say he'd asked, but it would be a ridiculous lie—that Beatrice diagnose and cure Alex posthaste. Pez and Cash stood guard at the door, while Mike had left immediately upon arrival to check on his family.

Most of the others were still in the woods hunting down their attacker, but Henry crowded up by Alex's bedside, he and June and Nora all crouched uncomfortably and all unwilling to move so much as an inch. It hadn't taken Beatrice long to come to a conclusion.

"It's dreamshade." Beatrice sighed. "How long ago did he have contact with the arrow?"

"Half a day?" Henry guessed, mind reeling. Alex's comment about bringing him out of his head; that made sense. He would've put it together sooner if he hadn't been half out of his mind with worry, he supposed. "Maybe more, it took us far too long to come back—"

"Fuck," Nora swore.

"He'll be fine," Henry snapped at her, then turned back to Beatrice and insisted firmly, "He will.  
Right?"

The silence was horrifying.

"Henry," Beatrice said quietly, "We ought to speak alone for a moment."

"What the hell for? Just do whatever it is you need to do, put me in his head and I'll bring him back—"

"Henry—"

"I don't want excuses, just do it!"

"Henry." Henry wasn't sure when Pez had moved to his side, but he was there now, gripping Henry's shoulder tightly in warning. If it'd been anyone but Pez, Henry would've slapped their  
hand away or shouted some more but as it was, Pez's tempered tone was enough to steady him temporarily. "We'll leave. Talk to Beatrice for a moment."

"We don't have a moment," Henry insisted, but the others began to file out regardless. June and Nora were particularly reluctant, so Henry nodded at them. "Stay. He'd want you to."

"Henry..." Beatrice hesitated, glancing at the others then offering them a nod of acknowledgement as well. "The problem with dreamshade is that it's very fast-acting. Steps can be taken before the poison reaches the heart, but that only takes a couple hours. Half a day...there isn't much to be done."

"If there isn't 'much', then what's the much?" June maintained, "What can we do?"

"Beatrice can send me into his head," Henry turned, "Right? Pull him out of his memories? Alex thought I could do it, he's waiting for me to bring him back. You brought me back, why the hell can't I—"

"They brought you to me before the four hour mark." Beatrice shook her head with a grimace. "This...half a day? Henry, if I send you in—"

"So you can," Nora insisted.

"Theoretically," Beatrice hedged, "But I'm not going to, because—"

"You most certainly are," Henry told him immediately.

"Listen to me," Beatrice insisted firmly, "Magic has very specific rules—"

"Magic is hand-wavy bullshit!" June snapped, "Just wave your hands and send Henry in there, or send me in there, or do whatever it is you've got to do!"

"As much as I appreciate your deep respect for what I do..." Beatrice narrowed her eyes at June. "I need the three of you to hear me: you cannot bring him back at this point."

June scoffed disbelievingly. Nora turned to face the wall. Henry sat down and tried to remember how to breathe.

"And I'm sorry about that." Beatrice stepped forward to lay a hand on Henry's shoulder, the only person in the room she actually knew. "I am, I truly am. He was a good man and I sympathize with you, I swear that I do, but if I were even able to send you in, you would only get trapped in there with him. The poison has certainly reached his heart by this point, you go in and it'll just latch onto you too."

"Is there any other sort of..." Nora waved a hand, not dismissive so much as unsure. "Spell? Potion? Herb?"

"We'll hunt down whatever you need, there's got to be something," June agreed quickly, her borderline hysterical laugh underlining the fact that the news had clearly not settled yet with her, "He's too bullheaded to just—what, die? Alex's not gonna go out that easy, that's fucking Ridiculous."

Henry put his head in his hands. Beatrice was too intelligent and she knew far too much about how Henry felt to think there was anything in the world Henry wouldn't find or retrieve or give to bring Alex back. If she wasn't mentioning alternatives, there weren't alternatives. June was still talking and Nora was still pacing but Henry couldn't hear a damn thing over the blood rushing in his ears.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking fuck, this wasn't happening, couldn't be happening—Alex had come back for him, had been out there for him, had taken that stupid fucking arrow for him—this was his fault, this was all his fucking fault, he knew Alex had a damn martyrdom complex, he should've kept him three yards away at all times to prevent this exact situation but he couldn't—he hadn't predicted—he was stupid, so fucking stupid! He'd only just gotten Alex back and now he might—he was going to—and Alex had asked Henry to bring him back, that was all he'd fucking asked for and Henry couldn't manage it because he was a failure, he was a worthless fucking failure, just sitting here on his ass while Alex died—

"Just do it." Henry stood abruptly, interrupting June's insistent rant about some herb he'd heard of years ago from a friend's mother's cousin or who knew what.

"Yeah, okay." June nodded immediately. "I can go now, be back in—"

"That's some bullshit rumor and we all know it." Henry shook his head, meeting Beatrice's eyes. "Do it, Beatrice."

"Henry, listen to me, it will not work, it'll drag you under and—"

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you think you're going to talk me out of this," Henry demanded. When Beatrice was unable to, he continued, "Then send me the fuck in there already, because now we're just wasting time."

Beatrice uncrossed and then recrossed her arms, fidgety now. "I'm not certain I even could."

"Try," Henry ordered, nothing short of a king's command and they all knew it.

Frustration and concern warred in Beatrice's expression. "This is...insane. Insane and ill-advised and the absolute stupidest thing you have ever tried to do and you have a laundry list of very stupid things to your name—"

"He made a stupid, pointlessly martyring decision on my behalf once—"

"And you're going to what, throw your life away returning the favor?"

"I'm not throwing anything away! I'm bringing him back, that's all, nobody's dying here! Damn it, Beatrice—"

"He would never want you to do this," Nora put in quietly. That stopped Henry short, but only for a moment.

"No," he admitted honestly, "He wouldn't. But you know damn well that he'd do the exact same thing for me no matter how the fuck I felt about it."

"Christ," June hissed, rubbing both hands over her face as she turned away, "You are both so fucking stupid."

"Well established." Henry didn't so much as spare her a glance. "Beatrice?"

"I hate this," Beatrice maintained, but he was already moving away to where he kept his potions, "I really, really hate this."

"Really? I'm having a grand time," Henry snapped, gaze drifting back to Alex's unconscious form. God, he looked awful. He'd gone from feverish with labored breathing to eerily still and pale as marble; Henry preferred the fever, if only because this looked too close to something Henry didn't even want to think about. He closed his hand around Alex's wrist, felt for something to reassure himself with. The beat of his pulse was present, but disturbingly slow. Henry tore his gaze away when Beatrice returned with a small blue vial.

"Drink it and touch his forehead," Beatrice instructed, then seemed to reconsider, "Or his heart? If the poison's there already..."

"Fuckin' magic," June muttered under her breath, "Hand-wavy bullshit—"

Nora snagged June's arm. She must've dug in her nails, because June winced and shut up. Beatrice was ignoring them anyway, thinking it over.

"Heart," she decided at last, "Hand over his heart. And once he's aware that it's all a dream, he'll be able to wake up on his own anytime he likes. If he wakes up, so will you."

Henry reached for the vial. Beatrice, reluctant but resigned, relinquished it. Henry glanced at the trio of them, watching him, watching Alex.

"Give me a moment," Henry asked of them, "You can come back after a moment, I just...I'd like...if this is it..."

"Don't talk like that," June gave his shoulder a half-hearted shove, worry in her eyes behind the posturing, "You're gonna jinx the damn thing. It's gonna go fine, you're gonna bring him back and you're gonna get over your terminal cases of stupid and make me an aunt, right?"

"Right." Henry offered him a thin smile.

"You can bring him back." Nora assured with a confidence that, for all Henry had plenty of stubborn determination, Henry envied. "He'd come back from the grave itself if he thought you wanted him to."

Nora followed June out the door. Beatrice watched Henry another moment, still wary and at war with herself, before disappearing silently out after them. Henry felt the weight of Beatrice's disapproval, but there was nothing to be done about it. He could live without Alex—this past decade had proven he could even be very happy, which was more than his eighteen-year-old self could've imagined—but he damn well didn't want to. If he had a chance in hell of saving Alex, he was going to try; that had never even been a question. Alex would do it for him, after all.

"I won't let you slip away from me again, beloved," Henry murmured, his voice too quiet, too fragile in the empty room as he moved closer to Alex's side. It'd been so long since he'd called Alex that, but the word still rolled off his tongue as easily as if he'd last said it just yesterday. 

He slid onto the cot with Alex, pulled the man's head into his lap. Funny to think of him as such, as a grown man instead of the boy he'd loved. Henry's throat closed tight as he ghosted a hand over Alex's hair, still slightly curled. Though Alex had grown much older and taller and wiser and everything else, there was something still so deeply, intimately familiar about being like this again. Alex's head in his lap, Henry's hand in his hair, his eyes closed as if he were only resting them a moment. Like he'd open them any second now, bright and dark and adoring, and smile up at Henry like they didn't have a care in the world. Henry bent to kiss his forehead, lingering enough that he could settle the emotions threatening to claw their way out of his chest, then popped the cork of the bottle.

"Cheers to stupid decisions, huh?" He raised it in toast, pressed one hand over Alex's heart, then downed the bitter liquid in one shot.

"C'mere."

Henry's hand was warm on the back of his neck as he pulled him in. Alex opened to him easily, pressing forward and fisting his hands in Henry's shirt. He pushed Henry back, gentle but firm, and Henry fell onto the bed with a surprised but pleased laugh. He then sat up enough to crook a finger into the hem of Alex's pants, tug him forward as well. For the moment, Henry was shorter than him, had to tilt his head up in invitation for a kiss instead of the other way around. Alex couldn't have resisted if he'd wanted to. He bent to cover Henry's mouth with his again, taste the smile on his lips; Henry caught him by surprise, looped an arm around his neck and yanked him into bed with him.

Alex laughed but didn't quite break the kiss, a strange sound made stranger by Henry doing the same. He couldn't help it. He was giddy. Henry made him giddy, made him flustered and comfortable all at once, calmed him down even as he riled him up. Alex had kept this all to himself for months now—wonderful, amazing months—but being with Henry was better than any drug and never failed to feel new and exciting. His kisses were like shots of pure magic right to his veins, warm and euphoric to the point Alex felt his heart might burst with it. He didn't care. He didn't care about anything in the world when Henry looked at him like this, touched him like this; time didn't slow, it stopped existing altogether.

"Alex," Henry panted. He wasn't trying to say anything, Alex could tell, he just liked saying Alex's name when the friction between them was maddening.

Henry tugged at his shirt and Alex didn't pause, just lifted his arms up and parted long enough to yank it over his head and toss it aside before kissing Henry again, harder this time. He ran his hands down Henry's neck, over his shoulders, then grabbed Henry's shirt and shoved it up with a needy noise, kissing away from Henry's mouth down to his chest. With anyone else, the noise might've been embarrassing; here, with Henry, it didn't even register to him. How could it? What could he ever have to be embarrassed about with Henry?

He was proven right when Henry made a rather needy noise of his own, shrugging out of his shirt and threading a hand in Alex's hair, pulling gently for him to come back up. Alex declined cheekily, jerking his head back. Henry whined, but Alex only hummed and pressed kisses along Henry's torso.

"Tease," Henry muttered, but there was such fondness in his voice he failed to sound like he disapproved at all.

"You love it." Alex pressed an open kiss to Henry's hip. He gave a little nip, pleased with Henry's sharp inhale and the stutter of his hips.

"I love you," Henry corrected.

"And I you, my prince." Alex moved back up, leaving kisses and bite marks across Henry’s abdomen in his wake, just enough pressure to get Henry squirming.

"Mm, ah." Henry did just that, making a wonderful noise somewhere between a hum and a moan as he did. "God, the things you do to me—ah!"

"What do I do to you, my prince?" Alex released him, glancing up with his most innocent smile.

"You know precisely what you do." Henry dropped his head back with a gusty, pleased sigh. "I've got that tourney tomorrow, everyone's going to call me 'prince' at least a hundred times and I'm going to have to hide the tent in my drawers."

"Anything to get you to think of me," Alex teased, dipping his head to return to his kisses, but  
Henry yanked him up by the shoulder. "Wha—hm?"

Henry just kissed him, hard and dirty and with an intensity Alex wasn't expecting but could certainly roll with. Then they were actually rolling, Henry hoisting a leg over Alex's hips to flip him. Henry straddled him, propped himself up with his forearms resting by Alex's head to gaze down at Alex with a beautiful smile and the utmost sincerity.

"I think of you always, beloved."

"I know, you fool." Alex wrapped both arms around Henry's waist in the tightest embrace he could manage. "My fool."

"Your prince," Henry teased.

"My everything," Alex murmured back, kissing him again because, well. How could he not? He stopped thinking for a few blissful moments, until Henry's fingers slid just under the hem of his pants.

Henry hadn't done that before. They hadn't really—discussed it, exactly, when they might go farther, and it wasn't that Alex was opposed because he wasn't, God, how could he be, but— Alex's runaway train of thought was derailed farther when Henry's hands slid back up. He didn't say a word about it, just kept kissing Alex and moving his hands to Alex's back instead.

"Henry—"

"S'okay." Henry shook his head, kissing Alex again tenderly and without urgency. "Just a thought. To think. And talk. About. If you wanted to talk about it, or think about it, there's no—"

"Henry." Alex hushed him with another kiss. "Let's."

Henry's eyes went a little wide, flatteringly reverent, before he softened and smiled. "Yeah?" Alex kissed him again, harder this time, smiling so wide Henry could probably feel it against his lips. "Yeah."

Henry blinked, and he was watching himself grab a skinny little blond boy by the wrist—Alex, god, he'd been so much smaller than Henry remembered—and yank him along down the hall.

"Keep up, or Pez's gonna get us!" His five-year-old self shouted at a clearly very bewildered young Alex.

"What's a Pez?" Young Alex asked.

"'s a dragon!"

Young Alex went bug-eyed. "Here?"

"Yuh-huh!" His young self confirmed gleefully.

He was sort of surprised, he had to admit. Was Alex's best memory of them really when they were so young? He'd have thought...well. Simpler times, maybe. He could understand that. He tried to follow them around the corner, but when he turned, he wasn't in the castle anymore. He was at Alex's childhood home, where he could see his young self knocking on the door with a too-big rucksack on his back.

He had to have been seven then, Peter's age, because Henry remembered this, could still remember his grandmother's look of disgruntled impatience as he'd insisted that it was all very well and nice to play with the help, but that inviting a servant's boy to Henry's birthday party wouldn't be proper. Henry had pitched an absolute nightmare of a fit, lost it completely in that way seven-year-olds could, and when Clarisse locked him in his room to cool off he'd decided instead that he was leaving home. He'd grabbed the crown he was supposed to grow into someday, thrown it in a bag, and snuck out. Against impossible odds he actually made it all the way to Alex's, showed up at his door and—

"Hello, Mrs. Alex," his younger self was announcing now, proper and polite as he could manage.

Ellen had opened the door and was wearing the very familiar expression of amused bewilderment she seemed to save especially for Henry. A pang of grief hit him; he hadn't thought of her in a long time, but Ellen had meant a lot to him. "I would very much like to live with you and Alex, please."

"Alex, honey?" Ellen called, laughter in her voice. "You've got a friend at the door."

"I do?" Young Alex poked his head around the corner, a smile lighting up his face immediately.

"Henry!"

"Hey, Alex!" Young Henry beamed back, reaching behind him to tug off his rucksack and open it up. "Check it out, we can sell this an' you an' me an' your mom can eat forever!"

"Goodness." Ellen's eyes immediately went wide at the sight of the crown jewels, and she glanced around worriedly before pulling young Henry inside. "Henry, dear, you can't wave something like that around, someone will—"

The door closed and Henry's world shifted, turned and spun and blended out to...god, that was the Tipping Tree, wasn't it? And there Alex was, halfway up already and going steadily higher, but why would he ever want to remember—

"Betcha you won't make it!" A young Pez called up at young Alex—nine, if Henry remembered right—only for Henry's younger self to huff indignantly, hands going to his hips.

"He will too!"

"He's so tiny though," A young Phillip frowned doubtfully, squinting up. Wow, he hadn't seen him in ages, and certainly not this young—

"He's fine," his young self insisted, cupping his hands together to holler up at Alex, "You're fine!  
You can do it!"

"I know I can," young Alex agreed crossly, "I don't need you to always tell me I can!"

"Fine then!" his young self called up, sticking his tongue out. "You can't do it, you're dumb and clumsy and you’re awful at climbing trees!"

"I do not—" young Alex whipped his head around to shout back angrily, and Henry winced.

He wanted to glance away, he knew what came next, but couldn't quite manage to. There it was; Alex lost his footing, the tree tipped like it was named for, and then Alex was slipping and falling from the branch, falling and falling and falling. Henry knew how this ended, yet couldn't help the horrific clenching in his heart as he watched Alex bounce off that last branch and hit the ground with a sickening thud. He knew Alex miraculously came away from it with only a broken arm, but Henry had never stopped feeling guilty for it.

"Oh my God, Henry," young Alex was telling him, "Shut up, it's not your faul—ow! Let go'a my  
arm, Pez, jeez!"

"I bet you broke it," young Phillio informed him.

"I said I'm okay—"

"I'm sorry, Alex, I'm so sorry, but it'll be okay though cause you can go to the royal infirmary and they'll heal you super fast and—"

"I don't need to go to the—ow!"

The last bit was yowled at the top of Alex's lungs as he bumped it again, and at this point he began to sniffle a bit, pulling his arm in close and staring murderously at it like by being angry he could somehow will the pain and his tears away.  
Henry's young self stood and drew up all of his princely command.

"Pez, go fetch the healer and tell him I got hurt, he'll come running. Phillip, fetch Mrs. Claremont-Diaz."

"Aw, don't get my Ma, she's just gonna—" Alex started, but Pez and Phillip had already scampered off. Alex stared at the ground sullenly. "She's just gonna baby me."

"Good," Henry's younger self announced, dropping down beside Alex and cuddling up close, apologetic and worried. He wrapped an arm around Alex as lightly as he could manage. "Does that hurt?"

"No," Alex was clearly lying, but he was also tucking his head against Henry's shoulder and still sounded like he was trying not to cry, so Henry didn't call him on it.

"I'm real sorry, Alex," his younger self repeated after a moment, "I didn't mean it, I swear. You're awesome at climbing. Better than me, and double fast."

"S'not true." Alex gave a little laugh, rubbing at his eyes with his good hand.

"Maybe not," his younger self admitted, "But you're gonna be someday, for sure. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"I yelled at you first." Alex glanced up at him with a watery smile. "S'okay, Henry. Just...stay with me 'til they come back? I don't like being out here alone, there could be..." his voice dropped to a whisper, "Bandits."

"Well, that's what you have me for." His younger self scooted closer, telling Alex confidently, "I'd kick all their butts twice over before I'd let 'em go near you."

"That's what I got you for," Alex echoed with a smile, "And you got me too, Henry. Yeah?"

"Yeah." His younger self grinned back.

Henry remembered saying variations of that exchange a thousand times, for a thousand different reasons. It always held that initial connotation though, that childish, innocent promise of I got you and you got me, the silly little best friends forever promise they might as well have shook pinkies on. He remembered now why this was a memory Alex would want to hold onto.

Thinking about other memories Alex would select made him feel...focused, somehow. Once he started really thinking about it, picking through their shared history for the shining moments, both the landmark occasions and the simply good times spent together, he could begin to see a pattern of sorts. The more he focused on cutting through the memories to follow after Alex's...essence, he supposed, there was no real word for it, the faster the memories began to clip by. Sometimes they were no more than a few words or a wayward glance, just enough for him to get the eerie, inexplicable feeling that Alex had been there; 'there', of course, being nothing more than an ephemeral memory with no tangible location. For all that the process frustrated Henry's magic-hating brain to even think about, he couldn't deny it was working, so he stifled his discomforts and chased whatever ghost trail he'd been left.


	10. Chapter 10

_"C'mere," Henry mumbled sleepily when Alex moved a little, wrapping his arm tighter around Alex's stomach and pressing a few small kisses along his neck._

_Alex blinked awake at the attention, stretching a bit with a yawn and a hum, glancing upwards. The sky above was just beginning to turn lighter, the dusky sort of grey-blue that signaled the sun was coming up soon. Henry, presumably seeing the same thing, groaned and ducked his head to bury it against Alex's shoulder._

_"Don't we have hours? I thought for sure we had hours."_

_"We had hours." Alex turned in his arms to stretch up a bit, kiss his nose. "We used them."_

_"I regret nothing," Henry said idly, eyes tracing Alex's face with lazy appreciation as his fingers followed. He touched lightly over Alex's forehead, brushing back his hair then sliding his hand  
down to Alex's cheek, his jaw. "Waking up with you is easily the best birthday gift I've ever gotten."_

_"I'm glad." Alex turned his head, kissed Henry's fingers. "Happy birthday, baby."_

_"And anniversary," Henry added, catching his chin and tugging him closer for a kiss, "Birthversary."_

_"I don't think that'll catch on."_

_"I don't think many people have anniversaries on their birthdays," Henry reasoned, "We're special. Thus, a special word."_

_"Happy Birthversary, then," Alex agreed, mostly as an excuse to steal another kiss. One led to another, and another, until Alex had to reluctantly withdraw. "We can't stay out here all day, Henry. They're expecting us back."_

_"Ah, yes." Henry grinned. "From our...what was it?"_

_Alex paused, trying to remember. It was a string of political words he'd asked Beatrice for help with, something about uniting...alliances...strengthening bonds? "The point is that we went to visit Mike."_

_"You can't remember what it's called, can you?" Henry teased._

_"If you keep pressing your hard-on against my hip while I attempt to think, I'm not going to remember much of anything."_

_"Mm, but where's the fun in that?" Henry smiled, leaning forward to kiss along Alex's collarbone. Alex hummed his appreciation, tightened his arms as if there was any space left between them to fill._

_"You know we can't stay much longer."_

_"I know that no one would reasonably expect us to return all the way from Asgard until at least Midday—"_

_"Henry."_

_"Alex."_

_"Henry Fox."_

_"Alexander Claremont-Diaz."_

_"I want to stay. I do." Alex kissed his temple. "But—"_

_"No more buts," Henry told him decisively, then, with a bright grin and a squeeze of Alex's backside, "With one very exceptional exception."_

_"You're ridiculous." Alex laughed as he always did, though the laughter was quick to fade to a lingering kiss._

_When they parted, Henry had a rather sweetly appreciative look on his face, so Alex kissed him again. He took selfish, greedy pride in the parts of Henry only he saw, the parts he could call his  
own. Henry was always seen as the brash, daring prince, the one with the smart mouth and witty charm, ever the hero. Only Alex saw him bashful, saw him sweet and loving and often a little unsure of himself. It wasn't that Alex liked him to be unsure—Henry had no need to doubt himself, he was intelligent and kind and made the right decisions far more often than not—but he liked that Henry felt safe enough that he didn't think twice to share his insecurities with Alex. They certainly shared everything else._

_"I have a new one," Henry murmured into Alex's skin after a moment._

_"Yeah?" Alex twisted a bit, turning onto his side so his back was to Henry_

_"Yeah." Alex wound an arm around him, caught Henry's fingers in his as he did. They told each others stories like this often. It was a game, of sorts, with a dose of sincerity. "It'd be hundreds of  
years from now. You’d be a king too- or a leader of some kind, at least. You'd be as beloved by your people there as you should be here—"_

_Alex gave a soft snort. Henry squeezed his hand for silence, and though he couldn't see for certain, he could sense the eye roll he received in return._

_"They would revere the man you made of yourself. You would be a symbol for the people, known for your bravery and charisma and wisdom, as well as perhaps his troublesome mouth." Alex nipped a little kiss into the crook of Henry's shoulder, then tucked his chin into the space. "I would be out of place, in that world, but I think you would have helped me. And whenever it would get too hard, I’d grab your hand tighter and that would be all I’d need."_

_“Well I kept up with you all those years ago, I’m pretty sure I could follow you into this new future, too,” Alex’s eyes twinkled in laughter and the sunlight._

_"I don't want you to follow." Henry turned his head enough to catch Alex's eyes. "I want you by my side."_

_"And I would be," Alex assured, "I'll always be, love. Any time, any realm, I'll be by your side."_

"You fucking lied, you know."

_Alex shook his head, as if chasing away a phantom pain. "Tell me of you; what're you like, in this realm?"_

_"I'm old-fashioned," Henry teased, "I make you work for it."_

_"As opposed to our sixteen years of foreplay?" Alex teased right back, a smirk curling on his lips._

_"It was only eleven, not sixteen. We met at five."_

_"'Only' eleven, he says." Alex chuckled, turning in his arms. "Don't fool yourself. You're the other half of my soul, those first five years I was only in waiting."_

_"Long time to wait," Henry teased him, brushing back a stray lock of Alex's hair._

_"I'd wait forever for even a moment with you," Alex told him with an earnest sincerity so uniquely, perfectly Alex that Henry was helpless to do anything but kiss him._

"Maybe I would. Not you, though. Clearly."

_"What?" Alex frowned, but Henry didn't respond. Didn't even seem to have heard him, or the strange voice Alex couldn't quite make out._

_"Think we would be married, in that universe?"_

_"Um." Alex paused, unsure why Henry didn't seem to have heard him, but he supposed it didn't matter. "Well, of course. We'd have a wonderful wedding. Pez would tease us endlessly. Your father would tear up, though he'd try to hide it. Beatrice would be completely unsurprised, naturally. Your grandmother and Phillip would even come, I'd bet. Mike would—"_

"Now there's a bad idea. Might want to tell your past self not to invite murderous maniacs to our wedding, sort of spells disaster if you ask me."

_"—drink all the—" Alex stuttered, slipped. Someone was saying something, but he couldn't make out what. Henry didn't seem to hear it. Was it in his head? Something washed over him though, so he let it go. It didn't matter. He was happy. He was with Henry. He was talking about their life, however imaginary, and he was happy. "—the mead, and slap me on the back hard enough to knock me over—"_

_"I swear, one of these times I'll get him to stop—" Henry began._

_"No, no." Alex just smiled. "I like him, it's fine. He's merely...enthusiastic."_

_"He's going to give me a heart attack knocking you over like that." Henry made a face. "One of these times I'm not going to be around to catch you."_

_"You? Not by my side?" Alex smiled. "I can't imagine."_

"Funny, you could imagine it quite well soon enough!"

He heard some of it this time, something about 'imagining' and 'soon enough'. A sense of forced calm washed over him again, suddenly and abruptly. Happy. He was happy. He had Henry in his  
arms and he loved Henry and Henry loved him and they loved each other and they were happy, they were so, so happy—

_"Good, because you won't ever have to." Henry leaned in and kissed him again. Alex let that wash over him as well._

_Happy. There was nowhere else in the world he'd want to be. He was with his best friend, his lover, his soulmate; he had Henry, what else could he possibly need or even want? He had no desires but to stay here, forever, wrapped up in the warmth of Henry's skin and the taste of his mouth and the tangle of their fingers, Henry's hands achingly familiar and made for his own._

_"This isn't real, Alex. You know it isn't."_

_This was real. This was real and he was happy and he was with Henry, he was home—_

"Believe me, I wish I could dive back into the past too. You can't imagine how much I wish we'd just stayed out in that forest, or in bed, or in a million other places where it was just you and me  
and everything was easy, but we didn't, Alex, we couldn't have, Phillip—"

An awful, ugly screeching rang in his ears, painful as all hell. Phillip and the glint of a knife and Henry's sleepy, confused face in the candlelight, the butt of a knife against his skull—

"I know you can hear me, Alex, I know you can. Listen to me, mistakes were made and reality isn't pretty but it's not—our story isn't finished, beloved. Say what you will about our fucked up,  
tangled mess of a story but it's our story and I'm not finished with it yet, so you get your ass up and you come back with me, Alexander, or so help me—"

"Henry?"

And it was Henry, but it wasn't. The man kneeling beside him was Henry, had to be—Alex would recognize him anywhere—but he was older, in his late twenties at least. He could've been thirty  
for all the weariness he carried in his eyes and stance. He looked upset, defensive, but all the anger drained from him the moment Alex met his eyes.

"Oh god, you can see me. Thank god, thank fucking god—"

Alex turned to his Henry, the Henry he was lying with, to find he'd disappeared. Panic gripped him and he bolted up.

"Henry? Henry!" Alex shouted, but only the other Henry answered.

"It's me, love, I'm right here—" Other Henry immediately moved to his side with outstretched hands, as if he might touch him, but Alex flinched away from him and raised his fists. There was  
a sharp flash of hurt in the false Henry's eyes at that, but Alex reminded himself it didn't matter.

This wasn't Henry, this was some...shapeshifter, something else, someone that had disappeared the real Henry. The shapeshifter was taller than him, broad-shouldered and muscular with the same sort of reflexive grace about him Alex always saw in King Arthur's most powerful knights; whoever this was, they could dispose of him easily and they both knew it.

Alex jerked up his chin, clenched his fists tight and demanded in the most intimidating voice he could muster, "Tell me what you did with Henry."

"I'm telling you, I am Henry—"

"I don't know what you are or how you're mimicking him or what in the hell makes you think you can fool me, but I swear to God if you've hurt him in even the slightest of ways I swear I'll—"

"Don't you recognize me at all?" The shapeshifter looked hurt again and that was...they looked an awful lot like Henry, but Alex was hardly about to be fooled just because they knew how to mimic expressions.

"You look like him," Alex conceded. He still moved no closer, keeping a wary distance and his fists half raised. Looks meant nothing, looks could be replicated, could be changed by magic—

"But you're much older, so your tricks failed you there."

The shapeshifter winced. "Not that much."

"You're off by at least a decade." Alex eyed the attempted replicate.

"And a rough one at that." The shapeshifter sighed. "But that's not what I'm here to—"

"I don't care what you're here for," Alex interrupted him, "I don't care about whatever game it is you want to play, I care about you returning my friend to me now—"

"None of this is real, Alex." The shapeshifter was unmoved by his urgency. "You've been poisoned—"

"You poisoned me? What about Henry, did you—"

"No, it wasn't me—well, it was my fault, but I didn't—I would never want—this is just a memory, Alex. Or a dream now, I suppose, you're stuck in your head and I'm here to bring you back—"

"Or this is real," Alex snapped, "And you've kidnapped the prince of Midgard, a crime for which I will make certain you pay for with your life."

"Listen to me, we've been here before," the shapeshifter insisted, pointing a little ways away, "You danced with me right there before we went home, you remember that? We wouldn't be able to at my birthday gala and you wanted our moment, so you wouldn't take no for an answer. You stepped on my feet and even managed to elbow me at one point—”

"We haven't—" Alex stammered, taken aback. He been planning to, but— "That hasn't happened yet, how could you—"

"—but it was the best dance I've ever had and I'd do it again, Alex, I'd do it all again. Believe me when I say that I understand wanting to stay here, god how I do, but this is only a dream, beloved." The shapeshifter reached forward, clasped Alex's face in his hands for a moment before Alex was able to stumble back, jerk away from his clutches.

"Don't—don't call me that, get your hands off me!"

"Alex," the shapeshifter pleaded softly, "What do you need to hear?"

"What I need is for you to bring Henry back!"

"There's nothing to bring back, this is a dream—"

"Then leave me to it!" Alex shouted, suddenly so furious he could hardly see straight; he lashed out, shoving and hitting Henry everywhere he could. "Give him back to me, let me have this! I  
don't care if it's a memory, I don't care if it's a dream, I want it! I want this back, let me have it back! Don't make me lose this again, I can't, I won't—"

Henry held Alex’s arms down as he fought, though the irrational, desperate rage evaporated without warning, leaving Alex bereft of something he couldn't begin to put words to. He sagged in Henry's arms, buried his face in Henry's shoulder.

"I've got you." Henry stroked his back in broad strokes. "You hear me? I've got you, Alex, you're not going to lose anything, I promise—"

"This is a dream." Alex shook his head miserably. "You're not even real."

"Yes, I am," Henry told him, "I'm real, I took—there's a potion, a cure. You just have to wake up, that's all. Just wake up."

"Wake up to what?" Alex asked bitterly, memories trickling back to him, memories of loneliness and failure and horrible, vicious fights— "The future I ruined?"

"Mistakes were made," Henry acknowledged quietly, running a hand through Alex's hair now just like he always used to. If anything, that only told Alex he really was dreaming; Henry wouldn't touch him that way any more, probably never would again, and all because Alex couldn't be satisfied, couldn't be patient— "Reality isn't pretty. I know that; god, I know that. But it's what we've got."

"Or we could have this." Alex clenched Henry's shirt a little tighter, dragged him closer. "We could have this, Henry. Maybe it's a dream, maybe it's real, maybe it's something in between but we could make it ours, we could forget the mistakes and the complications and just...stay. Please, Henry. Stay with me."

"Alex." It was just his name, but the way Henry said it, soft and pleading and heartfelt, was enough.

"I have to wake up." Alex swallowed dryly after a moment, voice flat. "Don't I?"

"Peter would be incredibly cross with me if I let you die," Henry answered lightly. Alex couldn't help a watery laugh.

"I don't want to wake up," he admitted quietly, "But if I don't...you'll be stuck here too, won't you?"

Henry shrugged stiffly. "I knew the risks."

"Ignored them, you mean."

"Wouldn't you?"

"In a heartbeat," Alex agreed without hesitation.

A wry smile flickered briefly over Henry's lips. "And here we are."

Alex looked up at him one last time. It'd been a while since he'd had to look up at Henry; he hadn't been this small since, well. Everything. He looked up at Henry, drifted forward just a little, and Henry met him the rest of the way. They bumped foreheads gently, and if Henry's eyes looked watery, Alex didn't have time to see for sure before he closed his own tightly.

Henry came to in a flash. He would've rolled forward, if not for the weight of Alex's head in his lap. Alex came to in the very same second, gasping loudly, eyes darting around wildly before  
honing in on Henry's face. Alex arched up almost instinctively, grasping for Henry's hand.

"Henry." He wasn't shaking visibly, but the trembling of his hands was undeniable. "Henry, God, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—"

Henry just shushed him, cradled him closer and shushed him until his shoulders shook and the sound hitched closer to a sob. Alex clasped a gentle hand to his face and spoke again, soft and careful.

"Please, Henry—"

"I don't forgive you," Henry hissed angrily, turning away. Tears stung in his eyes and he hated Alex for it. Hated him for scaring him like this, hated him for leaving him in the first place, hated  
him for showing up again, hated him for the fact that he didn't hate him at all because he loved him. He still loved him and he'd always love him and it was the most painful, awful thing he had  
ever experienced. "I don't forgive you, I won't, don't make me forgive you—"

"I won't," Alex promised quietly, though his hand didn't withdraw from Henry's cheek. He sounded so achingly broken. The lump in Henry's throat clawed it's way a little higher. "I won't. It's alright, Henry, just breathe."

"Nothing about this is alright." Henry choked on a bitter laugh.

"Being alive is nice." A hint of a smile flickered over Alex's lips.

"Don't you ever do that to me again," Henry ordered, "Not ever. You shout a warning or you let me take the goddamn arrow but you don't ever do that to me again."

"That's not a promise I'm going to make." Alex's thumb stroked over his cheek, familiar and foreign all at once. "You know that."

Henry nodded mutely. He did, though he wished he didn't. Alex's hand settled a little lower, caressing over the back of Henry's neck. He ought to shake him off, he knew, but. He didn't have it in him to. He bowed his head instead, allowing himself a brief respite in the warmth of Alex's palm and the tenderness of his touch.

"I've missed you so very much," Alex said softly after a moment.

"I don't forgive you," Henry repeated quietly, though the truthfulness of the statement was shaky at best.

"I don't expect you to." Alex's expression crumpled a little in spite of his words. Henry's heart ached. "I don't need you to forgive me if you can't, Henry. I just need you."

"And where were you when I needed you?" Henry bit the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming it. Alex didn't have any good answer to that and they both knew it. He fell silent for a  
long moment.

"Never again," Alex promised with the utmost conviction. Henry would like to believe that. He'd give anything to be able to believe that readily, to take Alex at his word again without doubt or question, but he didn't have it in him anymore. Alex must've read the hesitation on his face, because he just made a shushing noise and stroked his thumb over the back of Henry's neck again.

"It's okay, Henry. I don't expect...this is all I need. Just you, okay? We're okay."

Henry couldn't help the slightly hysterical edge in his laugh. "I don't think two people can be any farther from okay than we are."

Alex's expression went shuttered. He wasn't quite able to meet Henry's eyes. "I've put you through hell. I know that. I know I haven't even the slightest right to ask this and I won't ask your  
forgiveness, either, because I don't deserve it, but...you came after me. You called me beloved again and you held me like you used to and I...I know it was a dream, I know you were just trying to wake me, but...Henry, if you have any love left for me at all—"

"Alex." Henry's voice cracked like it hadn't in years. "How can you even say that?"

Alex made a choked-off sort of sound, turned away with a stiff nod. "Of course. I'm—I'm sorry, I won't ask again."

Henry didn't need to see Alex's eyes to read the misconception in them, to know that Alex had mistaken him completely and what he was now telling himself. The cruel, revenge-desperate part of Henry that grew smaller with every moment spent in Alex's presence wanted to let him believe it. Let him think that Henry didn't care, that he'd done what was necessary to bring Alex back and nothing further; he was owed ten years worth of retribution, wasn't he? But perpetuating Alex's misery would do nothing but make Henry feel worse.

"You've got to learn to stop making assumptions," Henry told him, "You're awful at it."

"Henry..." The fragile hope in Alex's eyes was unbearable.

"I love you," Henry answered Alex's question properly, with a clarity even Alex couldn't mistake, "I love you, Alex. I've loved you my whole life and I likely always will. I'm still impossibly mad  
at you and I still can't bring myself to forgive you, but that doesn't change that I love you with everything that I am. What of you?"

Alex was sitting up before the last word even left Henry's mouth, turning and clasping Henry's face in both hands to be assured of eye contact, gentle but with a stiff, forced restraint.  
"Think what you will about my decisions, my reasoning, hell, my sanity," Alex murmured, his voice tight and deeply earnest, "But never for a moment think that I am not wholly and completely yours. I will always love you, Henry."

Hearing Alex say the words aloud sent a wave of relief through Henry so heady he could hardly breathe. He swayed forward, clutched at Alex's shoulders like a lifeline. Alex's expression softened and he all but swept Henry up in his arms in his rush to have him closer. He pressed restless, needy kisses along the side of Henry's face, his temple, down his cheek, along his jaw, until Henry lost his patience and took Alex by the back of the neck to urge him into a genuine one.

Alex gave a soft whimper against his mouth before going pliant, drawing Henry in as close as he could. Alex kissed like he was drowning for it, a tumultuous mix of passion and desperation, and  
Henry was no better. He dragged his hands across the back of Alex's neck and down his chest, digging his nails into any skin he could find to feel that this was real, that Alex was here, that  
Henry could really and truly have this again for even a moment.

"I don't forgive you," he lied into Alex's mouth.

"I don't deserve it," Alex answered, gasping the words in the small spaces where they needed air, "Don't deserve you, never have, but I love you, I love you, Henry, I love you—"

His name was the sweetest sound on Alex's lips, tragic and intense with such desperate longing Henry was helpless to do anything but kiss him harder, drag a hand through his hair and pull him closer. "I love you too, you deserve me and I love you and I need—"

"I'm yours," Alex swore lowly, voice rough and inarguable, "I'm yours, Henry, love, I promise—"

He felt so different under Henry's roving hands but he kissed just the same, so intoxicatingly familiar that for a moment Henry could forget everything that wasn't the weight of Alex's hands  
and the slide of their tongues and how he loved Alex with such ferocity in that moment he ached with it.

The door rattled.

It took a moment for the sound and the meaning of it to penetrate Henry's Alex-hazy brain. He pulled away for a moment and Alex chased after him, gaze going worried when Henry didn't quite let him.

"Henry?"

"The door," Henry panted and god, he hadn't been this breathless in years, "Did you hear the door?"

"Wasn't paying attention." Alex seemed similarly, gratifyingly breathless as well. He glanced towards it belatedly. "'s it open?"

"No, but I heard..." Henry watched the door another moment, then turned back to Alex. Alex, who was still holding Henry like he might disappear, still watching Henry with parted lips and that fragile, quiet hope in his eyes. "The others will want to know you're okay."

"They will," Alex agreed, but his hesitation was clear in the way his arms tightened around Henry minutely. Henry ran his thumb over Alex's cheek; Alex turned, pressed a tender kiss to his palm.

"Tell me I'm not dreaming?"

"You're not dreaming, beloved," Henry promised him softly, knowing the endearment would help settle his nerves.

"Henry..." Alex relaxed a little as Henry knew he would, but the worried look didn't quite leave  
him. "Are we...is this...?"

"I don't know," Henry answered honestly, glancing away, "I'm still furious with you. I want to scream at you almost as much as I want to kiss you, honestly."

"Almost?" A small smile played over Alex's lips.

"Almost," Henry agreed, leaning in to steal a taste of that smile for himself. "We still have a lot to talk about, but we can revisit it later. For now, we ought to let the others know we've...returned, I  
suppose, at least metaphorically."

Alex nodded mutely, though he didn't actually move. Henry couldn't help a bittersweet smile, kissing Alex just once more before moving away. This one was slow, soft and promising in a  
way the others hadn't quite been. Even after Henry moved away, Alex's eyes stayed closed for a long moment, like if he didn't open them he could hold onto the kiss a little longer. Henry squeezed his wrist gently and Alex opened his eyes. He nodded again and sat up, righted his shirt collar before doing the same to Henry's. Henry returned the favor by fixing where he'd mussed Alex's hair.

"I like your hair better like this," Henry commented quietly, "The new style? In the midst of everything, I never quite found a good time to mention that."

Alex smiled, laid his hand over Henry's. "You took my breath away when I first saw you again. There was never any good time to tell you that either, but. It's true."

"I'm not certain I believe that." Henry clasped Alex's hand, interlocked their fingers and gave a brief squeeze. "Younger you was quite frightened by how old I looked."

"I wasn't frightened." Alex rolled his eyes. "You just didn't look the same as the boy I'd been lying next to half a moment before, that's all. You aren't even out of your twenties yet, you're still  
the handsomest man in all the world and you damn well know it."

"You always know when I'm fishing for compliments." Henry smiled at him. "And yet you always give them to me."

"Just telling the truth," Alex told him sincerely, leaning forward until he stopped just shy of a kiss, seeming unsure of his welcome. Henry didn't move forward, just tilted his head enough to bump  
Alex's nose with his. Alex accepted the hint with fervor and kissed Henry with enough gusto to take his breath away.

"The others," Henry reminded him when he'd regained half a breath, before Alex could kiss it right back out of him.

"Of course." Alex stood, separating them, and Henry found himself wishing he hadn't spoken at all. Alex, ever the mind-reader, shot him a knowing smile.

Henry moved to the door, opening it only for June and Nora to nearly fall in from where they'd clearly been leaning against it. Henry raised a dangerous eyebrow, daring them to come up with an excuse. He didn't love the idea of being spied on in general, but his conversations with Alex fell into a particularly private category.

"Good to see you succeeded," Nora offered, a hint of a blush rising just above her collar. They'd definitely been spying, then. "Sire."

"We've been guarding the door for over an hour," June declared, impertinent and exasperated, "I'm not going to pretend I don't know what they were up to behind it, because frankly I don't care. Now come here, you big, alive dumbass."

June moved past Henry to pull Alex into a tight hug. Alex wheezed and hugged her back. "Ow, jeez, it's good to see you too, Bug."

"Don't give me the 'you worrier' tone, you're the one who decided to make out for an hour instead of saying 'hello, June my bestest friend, I am alive and well' after being unconscious for four fucking days you asshole, I am well within—"

"Four days?" Henry asked sharply, "It felt like half an hour, are you joking?"

"No, it was seriously four days. Almost five, it's practically dinner—"

Henry started off immediately, calling back at Alex but not slowing down, "I need to—"

"Peter," Alex finished for him, nodding immediately. "Go."


	11. Chapter 11

Damn, Henry was sore.

Half a minute's walk and he felt like he'd run to one end of the palace and back; his muscles ached like he hadn't exercised in years. Then again, he hadn't moved in four days...he supposed he could hardly expect his body to be particularly appreciative of that. Come to think of it, shouldn't he be starved, or dehydrated? He didn't feel particularly either. He didn't seem to have lost weight—four days without food, shouldn't he have?—just sore as all hell.

Magic, Henry thought bitterly with a shake his head. He couldn't quite hate it, it'd saved Alex's life and his own a handful of times, but he could certainly agree whole-heartedly with June. Hand-wavy bullshit indeed.

"Henry?"

James stuttered to a stop in front of him, clearly startled to see Henry up and about. Henry was still irritated with him over the letter debacle—damn, he really ought to read that thing—but he didn't have the time for arguments or even pleasantries at the moment.

"Surprise, I live. Where's Peter?"

"I don't...I'm not sure, how did you—?"

"We can discuss the particulars later, I need to find my son." Henry moved past him abruptly, until James caught his arm. Henry allowed it—mostly because his muscles screamed for a moment to stand still and rest—but raised an eyebrow in warning. Whatever James had to add ought to be important.

"I'm glad you're well, H." It wasn't often James used the shorthand of his name; it imbibed a certain sincerity to the sentiment. Henry nodded his thanks. James gestured down the hall. "It's almost dinner. Peter's likely with the knights, waiting to eat."

"Thank you." Henry verbalized his appreciation this time, then headed off in that direction.

Four days. Christ. Peter must be out of his mind with worry, and Henry doubted the knights were much better. He'd seen the desperate, panic-edged relief in June and Nora's eyes to have Alex back; there was something about that look that didn't quite sit well with Henry. It wasn't just that they'd been relieved Alex had finally woken, they'd looked surprised. Henry wasn't certain how  
long these affairs usually took, but when Beatrice had pulled him from his own head he knew it'd only taken a handful of hours. Four days...there had to have been serious questions about whether or not they'd return at all.

The thought briefly occurred to Henry that walking right into the dining hall might startle people, but by the time it had he was already pushing open the doors.

The chaos was immediate.

Half of them called his name incredulously, the other half blurted some variation of a swear word, but the one frantic shout of Daddy! was what caught and kept Henry's attention. Everyone was up and moving immediately, but Henry only had eyes for Peter, who raced past all of them and tackled Henry so hard he nearly took him to the ground. Though his muscles screamed in protest Henry swept Peter up straightaway, kissed his forehead then both cheeks as Peter wrapped both arms around his neck tight enough to choke him.

"I knew it!" Peter declared with a sniffle into his shoulder, "I knew you were gonna be okay, they lied, Daddy, they lied, they said—they said—!"

Then Peter was crying, sobbing loudly enough in Henry's ear he could hardly hear what anyone else was saying. Henry rubbed Peter's back soothingly, clutched him close and pressed more kisses to his hair.

"It's okay, Petey, I'm okay, see? I'm not going anywhere. Told you I'd come back, didn't I?"

Peter just mumbled some form of agreement into his shoulder and clung tighter. Pez was the next to shove past the growing crowd and pull him into a tight hug, squishing Peter between them.

Not that Peter cared about anything that wasn't an attempt to choke Henry out via hug or wiping his snot on Henry's neck.

"What the hell, H?" Pez demanded breathlessly, "Jesus. Of all the dumb stunts you've pulled, this one wins. Four days? Four days—"

"Unintentional," Henry promised, "Hell, I thought it was a half hour until June and Nora told uso therwise."

"Us?" Zahra clarified, "Alex's alright too, then?"

"Alive and well." Henry nodded. The dull ache in his lower back began rising up to his shoulders; he winced. Peter was getting big. "I'm going to have to put you down for a minute here, Pete—"

"No!" Peter shrieked loudly—damn, right in his ear, too—and used his arms and legs to clamp onto Henry like a vice.

"Peter, darling, I haven't moved in four days and I'm very sore, I need you to let go." Henry tried to unclasp his arms, but Peter wasn't having it.

"Then sit with me," Peter demanded.

"Peter," Henry warned.

"Please," Peter amended immediately, "Please, Dad?"

"Of course I'll sit with you, but you've got to let go first," Henry told him.

Pez stepped in, helped remove a displeased Peter from Henry's arms. Pez bounced him a little, but Peter just scowled at him, shoved Pez's chest and wiggled to be let down. Pez gave up and put him down, only for Peter to beeline to Henry's legs and cling tightly. Pez opened his mouth to say something, probably about being gentle, but Henry waved him off.

"It's fine, doesn't hurt." Henry ruffled Peter's hair fondly. The clinging reminded him a little of when Peter was younger, less prone to believing him when he promised to return safely.

"Don't scare us like that again, idiot." Rafael threw an arm around his shoulders, laughing when Henry winced. "Come on, come sit down. Chef said dinner would be ready soon and you've got to be hungry as hell."

"Come to think of it, I'm really not." Henry paused, waiting for it to hit him like a lightning strike or something, but...it didn't. "Beatrice's work, I imagine. Where is she? I owe her my thanks."

"More than you think," Shaan told him, "Someone ratted to the council that the typical return rate is a few hours. They wanted to give up on your return after a day's time, but Beatrice..."

"Lost her mind?" Zahra supplied, seeming amused.

"Anger issues," Rafael sing-songed.

"Point being." Shaan glanced at the duo before continuing, "She tore your council a new one. Said that recovery could take weeks if not months and that if they preferred listening to panicked  
rumors over a studied mage then they ought to get their heads checked."

"Months?" Henry frowned. "That isn't true. Is it?"

"God, no." Beatrice gave a disbelieving snort as she entered the room. Henry spun and grinned, moving forward to hug her only to be pulled back by Peter, still attached to his leg.

"Peter, if you really want to hug someone it seems you ought to hug Beatrice." Henry grinned at him. "Sounds to me like she saved my life."

"But I wanna hug you." Peter just pouted.

"Okay, buddy." Henry bent to kiss his hair again, then gestured for Beatrice to get her ass over here since it seemed he wouldn't be moving anywhere without his squirt's permission for a while.

"I just gave you the time you needed," Beatrice told him with an offhand shrug, "You did all the Work."

"Doesn't feel that way." Henry hugged her gratefully. Beatrice was a little stiff—she wasn't much of a hugger—but Henry's mood was rapidly improving and he could be forgiven if he felt like sharing it. "I know those council bastards, they'd dig my grave themselves given half a chance. I appreciate you not giving them that chance. And I suppose I have you to thank for the part where we didn't starve to death, as well?"

"Simple spell." Beatrice looked embarrassed now at what she surely saw as an excess of praise.

"Hardly any trouble. You weren't using much energy anyway—"

"Beatrice." Henry clasped both hands to Beatrice's shoulders warmly, gave her a little shake. "This is the part where you say you're welcome and join us for dinner so we can toast you properly."\

"I don't think that's necesse—"

"Peter, are you happy that I'm alive?" Henry glanced down at him.

"Duh!" Peter scowled up at him immediately, offended that Henry was asking.

"Don't you think the person who kept me alive ought to eat dinner with us?" Peter, seeming to get where Henry was going with this, nodded once in very serious confirmation.

"Duh."

"See, Beatrice?" Henry grinned. "Duh."

"Alright," Beatrice conceded, "I'll eat with you, so long as Rafael promises not to start another food fight. These clothes are new and I don't know any cleaning spells."

"If you hadn't kept my king alive, I'd be offended," Rafael informed him, "As it stands, you can  
have a pass."

"How magnanimous of you." Beatrice chuckled.

As they all settled back into their seats around the table, it occurred to Henry that he hadn't yet seen Mike.

"Is Mike still around?"

Pez nodded. "He and his companions always show up only a few minutes before food is served. His kingdom’s folks don't seem to be particularly patient when it comes to their meals."

"No, they never have been," Henry agreed, remembering the feasts he'd had while visiting Mike quite vividly, "Though considering their delicacies, I can understand why. Ever had their chocolate pastries? They’re to die for."

There was a brief, uncomfortable pause. Henry knew it was his phrasing, though he could hardly be blamed for not considering it; he was sore, but he didn't feel like he'd almost died. He was still trying to wrap his head around the concept of having spent four days unconscious. Shaan tactfully tried to pick the conversation back up. "I've had them. They’re surprisingly sweet."

Peter fidgeted impatiently in the seat, before giving in and impulsively climbing up out of his chair and into Henry's lap to hug him around the waist. He nuzzled his head under Henry's chin and looked up at him sadly; so Henry assured both Peter and the group at once.

"I'm okay, Peter. I feel great. A little sore, but perfectly healthy."

"I probably ought to look you over, after dinner," Beatrice commented lightly, "You and Alex both. Just to be certain."

"Where is Alex, anyway?" Zahra glanced at the door.

"Still by Beatrice's quarters, I imagine. June and Nora were guarding our door, he's likely still with them."

"Those two haven't been late to a meal in their lives, I'm sure they'll be in soon enough." Pez snorted.

Though he didn't love discussing war or politics in front of his son—Peter would only be this young once, and he had his whole life to deal with such things—there was a certain urgency in  
this case, so Henry gave in and broke his rule. "What of Phillip? Were there any incidents in my Absence?"

"There weren't." Pez leaned forward, the light coming to his eyes that meant he was discussing strategy. "We think—Mike thinks, anyway—that Phillip's not after Jane after all, that  
threatening Jane to him was only ever a diversion. Phillip and Richards went after you, specifically, out of the whole group of us; one arrow, one target, no second attacks or retaliation."

"To discombobulate you and our other forces," Henry reasoned, repeating back what Mike had told them, apparently days ago, "A kingdom without a leader is a kingdom at it's weakest."

"That's what we thought," Zahra agreed, "But what if we were giving Phillip too much credit?"

"The man's off his rocker," Rafael pointed out, "And Mike says he's got delusions of grandeur, that last they saw each other Phillip was going on and on about how he'd been lied to, that he was owed the crown he'd been told he was an heir to."

"So you think he's after me?" Henry realized, "That's insane."

"Why expect sanity from a lunatic?" Rafael shrugged.

"If we want to anticipate him, we need to be looser with our logic," Shaan agreed, "It's as Pez said; there was one arrow, one target. Just you. If he was after Mike, he'd attempt to weaken our defenses as much as possible, take out as many of us as he could while he had the chance. But if it's a kingdom he wants, he's not going to destroy it in the process of obtaining it."

"And he thinks none of you will mind if he just...what, slips into my place?" Henry couldn't help disbelieving amusement. Peter knew better than to speak during these discussions, but Henry felt Peter's arms go a little tighter around him. He stroked a hand through Peter's hair soothingly.

"Phillip wants a throne," Mike announced as he entered the hall, "I imagine he thinks little of the consequences, or of how others will receive him. He never has before."

"And here I was looking forward to startling you." Henry grinned. "No surprise to see that I've pulled through? I'm hurt, old friend."

"And I am hurt you thought I ever doubted you would." Mike laughed, clapped a hand to his shoulder as he passed Henry to take his seat. "But I'm afraid Alex stole your thunder, we passed him on our way here."

"He's on his way, then?"

"Indeed."

"Good." Henry nodded. "Because I may just have a plan to smoke out my brother."

"Oh?" Mike's interest piqued immediately.

"He wants me gone so he can step in?" Henry shrugged. "Let's give him what he wants."

"Let word spread the spell failed," Shaan caught on immediately, nodding, "Phillip will make his  
Move."

"Precisely," Henry agreed, "You're the only ones who've seen me alive so far, anyway—you all and James, who is most assuredly capable of keeping secrets."

"Then we ought to inform him before he mentions—" Pez rose, and Henry nodded.

"Go, let him know he can tell no one and most certainly not the council."

Pez was only gone a moment before the doors swung open again; it could be Alex and the others, but it could also be their food, so Henry did the first thing he could think of and ducked  
under the table. Peter's presence in his lap made the maneuver awkward and fumbling, enough that they both bumped an elbow or two and Henry's muscles screamed protest. He worried briefly that Peter might make noise, but his smart boy knew well enough to keep quiet, just bit his lip and watched Henry in muted seriousness for further cues. Henry held a finger to his lips, assuring Peter they needed to remain quiet.

It was in fact the arrival of dinner, so they waited quietly as food was served, listening to the knights' idle babble and watching the footsteps of the serving hands. The tablecloth was long enough to hide them, Henry was sure, but he could only cross his fingers Alex wouldn't be ill-timed enough to enter now.

"Where's Prince Peter?"

"With his father," Zahra assured.

"Serve his dinner, he'll return for it," Pez added.

The serving hand who'd asked sighed now, solemn. "Will he? He's missed half his meals. That's not good for a growing boy, no matter his troubles."

Henry poked Peter's stomach with a reprimanding whisper, "Peter."

Peter pouted at him.

"You can't stop eating every time I get in a spot of trouble."

"I wasn't hungry." Peter glanced down guiltily. Henry sighed. There was little to be done about it now. Above them, the serving hand continued.

"Though one can hardly blame him, I suppose. The Windsor line bears such tragedy, doesn't it?"

"It really is a tragedy," Rafael confided to her. He managed to hit the right tone between gossiping and contrite, enough to sound genuine. Henry admired his acting. "Peter's saying goodbye, now. Come midnight..."

"Rafael ," Shaan interrupted sharply, picking up his cue perfectly.

"Everyone'll know tomorrow, anyway," Rafael defended.

"That's the end of it all, then?" The serving hand sounded horrified. "That poor boy. And poor King Henry, too. What a waste of such a brilliant man, all for that ungrateful knight."

Henry's fists clenched tight of their own accord.

"I wouldn't say that too loudly," Zahra commented with a careful blandness Henry knew to be one of her most dangerous tones, "Sir Claremont-Diaz has friends."

"Indeed," Mike told her, voice gravely serious. It was no show for Henry's benefit; she'd genuinely offended Mike, that much was quite clear. "I've known Alex since we were young, the man doesn't have an ungrateful bone in his body. He gave his life to defend your king and would be horrified to know the risks Henry took to bring him back; you'd do well to pay respect to your knights instead of blaspheming their good name."

"Of—of course, I apologize," she correctly herself immediately, flustered now and backing away towards the door, "I was out of line."

"You were," Mike agreed resoundingly.

Henry heard the door swing shut just seconds later. He climbed back up into his chair with as much dignity as he could muster, which wasn't much considering Peter kneed him in the crotch crawling back up with him. He hissed a swear.

"That's not a very nice word," Peter informed him, already picking up his silverware and making a go for his dinner.

"And you just hit me in a not very nice place," Henry replied, still smarting, before turning to Mike, "You know, if you wanted my serving hands to wet themselves you ought to just pull out that old axe that you carry everywhere next time."

"She was disrespectful." Mike didn't look amused.

"She was," Henry agreed.

"Henry..." Rafael started, though he trailed off before he could put anything more exact into words. Henry sighed.

"Alex's a knight. And an old friend. The rest is...up in the air, and nothing I wish to discuss further." Henry squeezed his arm a little tighter around Peter, glanced down at him pointedly. 

The others seemed to receive the message clearly enough and dropped the subject for the moment. Henry wouldn't always be able to use his son as a feelings-talk shield, but he wasn't ashamed to abuse it while he could. "More importantly, Shaan—I'd like you to go find Alex and get him in here. If he talks to too many people, news of our return could spread too far to control."

Shaan nodded and stood, but sat back down as the doors to the hall opened. Henry prepared to duck under again, but the displeased expression on Pez's face said enough about who it was. And that was entirely, completely understandable, but. Henry leaned a little closer to him anyway, elaborated quietly just to Pez.

"We're trying," Henry told him, "Trying to try, that is."

"Of course you are." Pez didn't look surprised, just resigned.

"Please," Henry asked quietly.

Pez had to know what he was asking, they'd been friends too long for him not to. Henry wasn't asking him to forgive Alex, or even to necessarily act friendly with him; all he needed was for  
Pez to try and observe Alex with a clear head, see him for who he was now and get a read on his intentions. Henry was never going to be unbiased enough to be certain on his own. Pez gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

Alex moved past them both, taking a seat in his usual place, June and Nora on either side of him. Alex's gaze was a weight on his shoulders, heavy and unavoidable. Henry spoke first to clear the air.

"Have you spoken to anyone yet? Besides June and Nora."

A flash of startled confusion crossed Alex's face. He glanced around at their very public setting.

"No, I didn't—or to them, Henry, I thought—"

"Has anyone seen you alive yet?" Henry interrupted sharply, clarifying before Alex could dig a hole no amount of tact and subject changes would be able to pull them out of. "Besides June, Nora, and our guests."

Alex's ears colored immediately as he realized his mistake. "Ah. No. Well, we passed James, but he didn't seem surprised."

"Good." Henry nodded. "Because officially speaking, you and I are going to die."

"That's, uh." Alex glanced down, seeming to realize there wasn't a meal in front of him, though June and Nora had both had food awaiting them. "Unfortunate. Why would—?" He stopped short, realizing, "Phillip."

"You always had a mind for strategy," Pez commented beside Henry, eyeing Alex as neutrally as he seemed able, "Sound like a good plan to you?"

Alex seemed to think it over for a moment, but he was already nodding. "I don't see why not. If he thinks Henry's already dead, he'll stop trying to kill him and make his real play."

"Phillip's a sneaky bastard though," June pointed out, "All this dark magic shit he learned from Richards? I'd bet he's got eyes on the castle."

"He can't have a watcher spell on us," Beatrice cut in, "I recrafted the castle's wards myself, they're airtight. We can't be watched, not through magic. He can't enter under false pretenses, either, be it invisibly or with any form of shape-shifting."

"Doesn't rule out spies, though," Norasuggested. A murmur of disagreement rose up, as it always would when the suggestion of disloyalty rose, but Shaan calmed it.

"It's a possibility," Shaan acknowledged to Sam, then turned to Henry, "Even if we didn't suspect spies, it'd be best if you kept out of sight. Word of mouth is slippery at best."

"My chambers have an undocumented passageway," Henry mused. The surprise on the others' faces was clear, but Peter squirmed immediately at the mention.

"Daddy!" he protested through a mouthful of food, "You said you wouldn't tell!"

"Sorry, baby." Henry squeezed his hand. "Special exception."

"But don't tell 'em why, okay?" Peter mumbled, embarrassed.

"I won't," Henry assured him, before continuing to the others, "I built it myself, there's no one else who could know about it. In theory, I could stay in my chambers indefinitely; meals and water could be brought in through the passageway, and I'd have something of an escape route if necessary. No one would be the wiser."

"Something of?" Rafael questioned, "Where's it go?"

"It wasn't meant to be an escape route," Henry elaborated a little, "Just a passageway between Peter's and my chambers. But it's something, and it'll stop you from having to explain why you're  
entering a deceased king's chambers. You could just enter Peter's, console the grieving—" Henry paused.

He loved his son with all his heart, but he in no way believed Peter was capable of portraying credible grief. Not so young, and not for as long as the charade might go. It could take days, it  
could take weeks, but Henry wasn't even certain Peter would be able to manage the former. Henry remembered how he'd felt when his dad had passed, lost and angry and hurting enough that it'd been visible in everything he did; this, when he'd been much older and with much more hands off parents than he'd always strived to be with Peter.

"That could work to our advantage, actually." Pez seemed to have picked up on his train of thought. "If Peter 'refuses' to leave his room, he'll need meals brought to him, and if we need to  
speak to you it'll look as if we're just going to try and console him."

"I have to stay in my room too?" Peter frowned up at Henry.

"I think so, Pete." Henry sighed.

"But you and Alex are gonna stay with me?" Peter perked up.

That was...not something Henry had yet considered. He supposed it'd be impractical for Alex to stay in his own chambers; his didn't have any sort of passageway, and to have them separated  
would only make it harder to communicate and bring them things without arousing suspicion. 

But to have Alex in his chambers would make things infinitely harder on Henry's sanity—

"I think I ought to hide out in my own chambers, Peter," Alex answered for him. Henry met his eyes, but he seemed to hold no resentment for Henry's hesitance, just understanding.

"How come?" Peter leaned a little on the table, nearly landing an elbow in his potatoes. "Don't you wanna hide with me and Daddy? It'll be fun, like our adventure!"

"All my things are in my room," Alex told him with a bit of a smile, "And I'll need a place to sleep, besides. Sorry, buddy. Next time."

"You can bring your stuff," Peter insisted, excitement growing, "And Daddy's bed is real big, we could all fit, like a sleepover!"

Most of the table managed to retain a straight face; June snorted her drink and Rafael was trying so hard not to laugh aloud that he dropped his fork. Henry cut in quickly.

"He said no, Peter, that's enough."

"But how come?" Peter whined.

"It does seem fairly impractical," Mike pointed out mildly, his expression the picture of innocence.

Henry only narrowed his eyes. Mike had always been good at playing innocent, but Henry had known him too long to be fooled. Before he could say anything, however, Rafael was joining in.

"Sneaking food out is going to be hard enough," Rafael agreed, attempting and failing horribly to mimic Mike's innocent expression. "Plenty of people are going to wonder why we're bringing it  
into a dead guy's chambers."

"No one would question us going into Peter's." Nora nodded with a wave of her knife for emphasis. "If you were all in one place, that is."

"It'll make it easier to empty Alex's chambers, as well," Shaan reasoned, and god, Shaan too? Henry was surrounded by traitorous bastards. "Delaying the cleaning out of yours makes sense, you're owed more respect and a regent wouldn't receive your chambers anyway, they'd be kept empty until Peter was old enough. But we can only delay clearing out Alex's for so long..."

"Bit unfair to expect us to run circles around the castle, too," Zahra chimed in. Her voice was teasing, but Henry knew the small smile on her lips to be genuine. She thought he ought to, then.

Zahra was a good assessor of people and their intentions, always had been, and had no past history with Alex to cloud her judgment. Still, Henry glanced to Pez.

"Communication would be a lot simpler if we could keep you two in one place." Pez shrugged stiffly.

"Sleepover?" Peter attempted to contribute to the guilt fest, pulling out his best, most adorably  
effective pout.

Henry gave a defeated sigh, waving a hand at Alex for his opinion as he reached for Pez's goblet. He could stand not being served dinner for a night. Withholding wine, on the other hand,  
was just rude. Even if the servers thought him dead.

"I could stay in Peter's quarters," Alex offered carefully.

"How come you won't stay with us?" Peter demanded, offended.

"I'm a big guy, you don't want me elbowing you out of bed, do you?" Alex teased, voice still light and careful, "I'll take yours, you'll sleep with your father, everyone will be much more  
comfortable that way. If that's alright with you, Henry?"

"Apparently my highly-trained knights are too lazy to cross the castle." Henry rolled his eyes, managing to steal a gulp of wine before Pez snagged the goblet back. "I'd hate to inconvenience them."

"With that settled." Shaan, ever the sensible one, circumnavigated further talk of bed arrangements. "We might want to begin considering how we're going to get the three of you all the way to the west wing unseen."

"I suppose sending scouts ahead in each direction would be too conspicuous," Henry mused.

"And any method of warning would be obvious," Zahra agreed. Before Rafael could so much as pucker his lips, she added, "Especially yours."

"But I sound exactly like a bird," Rafael protested. Peter bounced excitedly in Henry's lap.

"Do it do it do it," he prompted eagerly. Rafael gave a chirpy little whistle. Peter clapped his hands with a gleeful grin.

"See? Peter thinks it's perfect," Rafael declared.

"Yes, but yet he still doesn't think you're an actual bird." Henry rubbed a hand to his forehead. "We've been over this, it doesn't fool anyone if they can see you make the sound."

"I'd wait until they turned around, obviously," Rafael defended.

"It seems like they'd still be able to hear that it was coming from you," Alex pointed out.

Rafael turned on him, shocked. "Hey, I stood up for you, jerkwad!"

"More importantly." Pez eyed Rafael warningly. "Your bird call doesn't work, and scouting would be too obvious anyway."

"I could turn you all invisible," Beatrice suggested off-handedly.

Henry almost jumped to hear her speak again; Beatrice was far too good at letting others forget she was present. In fact, only she and Mike had managed to finish their dinners, everyone else was still too busy talking. They all fell silent as that sunk in, however.

"I thought you said the castle was warded," Alex spoke first.

"Phillip's magic is very powerful, if there are no wards—" Mike began, concerned, until Beatrice shook his head.

"No, there are. But like I said, they're mine." Beatrice seemed to realize after a moment that wasn't enough information for the altogether magic-clueless group. "A spell of mine won't block my own spells. Basic magical logic."

"Did you just use 'magical' and 'logic' in the same sentence?" June snorted.

Beatrice only sighed, clearly all too used to having her talents disrespected or misinterpreted. For all that Henry couldn't stand the stuff, he owed a lot to Beatrice's skill with it; everything from minor cuts and bruises over the years to, now, Alex's life. He supposed he ought to be less cavalier about it.

"It makes some sense," Henry attempted to defend, reasoning, "You don't lock a door if you don't have the key."

"Exactly." Beatrice smiled. Good. "I can keep you invisible indefinitely, so long as you stay within about ten feet of me. Once you move away I can hold it about...a minute, maybe two, before it drops. Less, if it's going to be all three of you."

"We can stay within ten feet," Alex assured, looking a little ashamed of himself now, "Thank you, Beatrice. Not just for this, but—you helped save my life and I hadn't yet gotten a chance to  
thank you for that."

"Henry did all of the—"

"Henry did a lot," Alex acknowledged, "And I thanked him for that, but—"

June snorted her drink, again. Alex and Henry both shot her incredulous, shut-the-hell-up-esque stares. June winced after another second, swearing and shooting a dark glare at Nora, who  
must've kicked her under the table.

"I thanked him." Alex repeated, with one last, narrowed-eyed squint at June that dared her to comment. "But you're the one who made it possible, and for that you have my sincerest gratitude."

Beatrice glanced briefly at Henry, as if he might object of all things, so Henry shifted a protesting Peter back to his own seat, snagged Pez's goblet again, and stood.

"Knights make dumb calls," Henry announced, "We're adrenaline-fueled danger junkies who take poison arrows for each other and pop into each other's heads for a couple days against all  
advisement. We get stomachs riddled with arrows defending each other..." Henry gestured with his goblet to Zahra. "We lose our hearing to banshees so our fellows can escape alive..." Henry  
nodded to Rafael . "We do what we have to in order to protect each other, to avenge what we need to. But we wouldn't be able to do it half as well if there wasn't someone stitching us up behind the scenes. I can't say I love not understanding exactly how it works, but I sure can't argue with the results." Henry raised Pez's goblet high. "To Beatrice Fox, the only reason any of us are still alive."

"To Beatrice Fox!" the knights resounded.

Beatrice looked embarrassed, but the small, quietly pleased smile playing on her lips was good to see. Henry mouthed an extra, personal, thank you, to her. Beatrice nodded, smile widening a  
fraction. Henry tipped the goblet at her, took a swig before returning to his seat. The moment Henry was back down Peter was back in his lap, understanding of the speech but cross about how Henry had removed him from his lap without warning, and Pez swiped his goblet back.

"Quit stealing, you old drunkard," Pez warned.

"Old?" Henry gaped at him as Peter resettled himself. "I'll have you know I'm in the prime of my youth, you ass."

"You've got a birthday in a few weeks that says otherwise," Pez just hummed, sipping at his reclaimed wine.

Henry scoffed. "Twenty-eight is nothing."

"Broaching thirty."

"You're broaching rude." Henry scowled at him. "Peter, you don't think I'm old, do you?"

"Well...you're a daddy," Peter told him reasonably, as if that explained everything, with sympathetic pat to Henry's shoulder. Laughter echoed around the table.

"I don't think I've ever been so insulted," Henry decided, "First I'm scaring the hell out of Alex, now my own son's thinking it—"

"You didn't scare me," Alex insisted once again with a laugh, "One minute you're eighteen, the next you're nearly twenty-eight; you grew a beard, for Christ's sake. I was rightfully confused,  
that's all."

"What was that like, anyway?" Rafael leaned forward on the table, intrigued. "The dreamshade thing? You were in the middle of some great memory and old-Henry just walked on in?"

"Refer to me as 'old-Henry' again and I'll kick you out of the knights," Henry threatened, but there was no heat to it and they all knew it.

"Not exactly," Alex answered Rafael 's question thoughtfully, "I was just in the dream one moment, and the next...I kept hearing a voice I couldn't place. I'd only catch a word or two, but eventually he was loud enough I couldn't ignore him."

"So his voice woke you up?" Beatrice asked next, also seeming curious now. Henry laughed.

"Hell no. That's too easy, isn't it? No, he was convinced I was a shapeshifter, said my 'spell' failed because my appearance was off by a decade."

The others laughed as well and Alex colored a little, defended himself, "It was a reasonable  
enough thought at the time."

"What convinced you?" Pez was the next to question him. Henry glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Pez seemed...calm enough. More neutral than before at least.

"He'd been there, the first time. He knew things that had happened, things I'd planned to make happen." Alex had gone thoughtful again. "And I think...I think I knew, anyway. When it was  
just his voice I remember wanting to ignore it if I could, but he kept talking and talking and he— pulled me out the memory, that way, but once I could see him, I was just so...angry, though I  
didn't have any reason to be. The poison made me want to stay past the point of rationality, even when if I'd been in my right mind I'd have wanted to come back."

"Huh," Beatrice commented quietly. The table turned to her. "What?"

"You 'huh'd. Is what he said unusual?" Henry asked when it seemed no one else was going to.

"Not—nothing bad. The anger and resistance to leave is perfectly normal."

"And what isn't?" Alex's brow furrowed, catching what Beatrice left unsaid.

"Well, it's a different scenario, remember, past the four hour point, all bets off, et cetera." Beatrice poked at her plate a bit, tilted his head back and forth, seeming to debate saying anything at all. "Hardly matters, regardless. It's just that victims usually can't hear voices, so that's—it's interesting, that you did."

"How do you wake someone without being heard?" Henry asked. It'd been hard enough with being heard.]

"Physical contact." Beatrice half-shrugged. "Excessive amounts. I had to push you off a bed, remember?"

"I try to forget." Henry rubbed a hand to his forehead. He had some vaguely horrible memory of being halfway through confessing his deepest hearts desires only to have, temporarily unrecognizable woman appear out of nowhere and shove him out of bed. It was a...traumatic mix, to say the least. "Forgive me if I prefer the original memory."

Beatrice laughed. "Most would."

Alex had been watching him for a long moment, and it was like a switch turned on; he snapped his fingers, a bright smile appeared on his face, and he blurted, "Muspelheim."

"The nine level tourney." Henry nodded, unable to resist returning the smile. Even after all these years, Alex still could read him like no one else. "Christ, that was the only bright spot in that  
entire awful weekend."

"Surtur might've been a more gracious loser if you hadn't spent the day before calling him Furter and making fart noises behind his back," Alex pointed out. Peter giggled in his lap at the word  
'fart'.

"And how old were you that you still thought fart jokes were funny?" Zahra raised an amused eyebrow at him.

"Ten," Henry lied horribly, they'd been seventeen and completely shameless, "And I wasn't the one who came up with it."

"Sure, but I didn't let him hear me say—"

"Bullshit, you goaded me into—"

"Goaded, sure, but I didn't—"

"Liar!" Henry crowed, "At the pond, he bent over and—"

"Okay, once, not that I could've reasonably been expected to restrain myself from—"

"Well, obviously he was asking for it, but that wasn't the—"

"It was too the only time, now who's lying—"

"What about the—"

"That doesn't count, I was—"

"Dear god what is happening." Rafael glanced between the two of them, sounding horrified.

"That." Pez gave a quirk of a smile, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip of wine. "Would be the sound of the universe righting itself."


	12. Chapter 12

"Peter, I swear—"

"—and then Alex can read to me, except you gotta do the voices, but Alex can do most of it and then—"

"Peter," Henry tried to grab him again, but Peter ducked out of his reach and over to the bookshelf, where he snatched up more than a few books.

"And cause you been gone so long I think I should get four books, one for every day you were gone—"

"Does he breathe?" Alex tried not to laugh, but it was difficult; watching a near-manically excited Peter run circles around an exasperated Henry was pretty much the funniest thing he'd seen in  
weeks.

"Not nearly often enough," Henry grunted, making another snatch for Peter, who jumped up on his bed instead.

"—except you were both gone, so I think I should get eight books, one for each'a you to read, just so it's fair—"

"If you're not in that tub in ten seconds we're not reading anything, buddy." Henry pointed at the tub expectantly. "One."

Peter immediately dropped the armful of books he'd collected and scooted off the bed, running and shedding clothing at the same time. It was a hilarious sight, only made better when he forgot his socks.

"Peter, no, you—" Henry started, but Peter was already practically throwing himself into the tub, splashing water everywhere. "...forgot to take your socks off."

"Oh." Peter peered down into the water curiously for a moment, then stripped them off too and dumped them over the side. "Sorry, Daddy."

"Right." Henry took a deep breath, rubbed a hand over his face. "Just...use soap, this time."

"I always use soap." Peter stuck his chin up defiantly. Henry eyed him, and he wavered. "Except when it's too sticky."

"You always think it's too sticky."

"I mostly use soap," Peter amended.

"Make this a mostly time," Henry warned, "I know when you don't, Peter, and Alex only reads to clean boys."

"That's not true." Peter stuck his tongue out at Henry, but glanced at Alex nervously. Alex winked at him. Peter grinned.

"You know what is true? Alex won't read so much as a word to you if I tell him not to," Henry corrected himself. Peter glanced at Alex expectantly, but Alex shrugged this time. Guilty as charged.

"Fine," Peter mumbled, grabbing the bar of soap and rubbing it over his face. "There, done."

"Properly, Peter," Henry told him, "We'll be back in ten minutes, and I want you scrubbed head to toe. Got it?"

"Got it," Peter muttered.

"So where's this passageway?" Alex asked, admittedly curious. He'd examined Peter's chambers when they'd come in a little bit ago, while Henry had roped Peter into a bath, but hadn't been able to find anything out of the ordinary.

"Bit more of a...doorway, I suppose," Henry admitted, moving to the bookshelf. He crouched down, pulled on a thick green book to tip it down. There was a slight creak, then the bookshelf  
began to move. Henry stepped back, let it rotate slowly until it stopped halfway through, enough space on either side for a person to pass through.

"You built this?" Alex marveled at it, though he couldn't really be surprised. Henry had always been intelligent enough, whether he was using his smarts   
.  
Henry waved Alex along into his chambers without answering the question, then bent back down to push the book in again. The shelf shuddered along back into place.

"Don't let on to Peter that you know, he gets embarrassed." Henry glanced at the shelf, but seemed satisfied Peter couldn't hear them now that it'd closed. "I built it because he gets nightmares. He doesn't like me talking about it, and he definitely doesn't like the guards by our doors knowing how often he still has to come get me, so I built that to let him sneak in without alerting the guards."

"Of course you did." Alex smiled. Only Henry.

Henry shrugged off his admiration. "There was...an incident, a little while back. It's what gave him the nightmares. I can't say I don't sleep a little easier knowing he's right beside me, or that I've at least got quick access to his chambers if he's in them."

"He mentioned something to me a week or so back, at least briefly." Alex watched Henry's expression carefully, "He said you told him they were never coming back."

"They aren't." Henry's jaw tightened.

"Henry—"

"I know what I said," Henry interrupted, meeting Alex's eyes challengingly, "When we were kids. But if you're going to—"

"Henry, stop." To Alex's surprise, Henry did. "You made that promise when we were, what, fourteen? You were idealistic."

"The word you're looking for is naïve."

"The word is idealistic." Alex smiled at him, chancing to move a little closer, enough to squeeze Henry's shoulder. "And it's one of my favorite things about you. You're always so hopeful of the  
future. You wanted never to execute someone and that was a good thing to hope for, but they threatened your son. You'd never sleep again if they were still out there."

"No," Henry admitted quietly, like it was some sort of fault, "I wouldn't."

"I would've done it," Alex told him honestly.

Henry laughed bitterly. "No, you wouldn't have. There's always another way, with you."

"If they'd threatened my child? Or you?" Alex met his eyes steadily. "I wouldn't so much as hesitate."

Henry watched him for a long moment, then the defensiveness of his stance eased and he moved forward to clasp a hand behind Alex's neck, tug him forward. The kiss was chaste by their measure, but simple and sweet and everything Alex had missed the most. His hands fell to Henry's waist and he hugged him close, savoring the moment for as long as it would be allowed to him. The scratch of Henry's stubble against his mouth was unfamiliar and new, but then, it all was. It was different and new and Alex liked it, he loved it, but he wanted more for it to be familiar again.

He'd once known every inch of Henry, how he felt against Alex and the sounds he'd made and how he'd react to Alex's every touch. He didn't know what had changed and what had stayed the same, but he wanted to, he would always want to. He just had to hope Henry was offering him the chance Alex thought he might be.

"Da—!"

The sound was muffled and cut off, but Henry's reaction was immediate. He didn't so much as pause before breaking Alex's hold and bolting away, nearly sprinting to the bookshelf and yanking the correct book down, shoving his way through the gap before it'd even finished turning.

It took Alex half a second longer to realize what was happening but he followed after quickly, drew his knife like Henry had and—

"Don't do that to me, you gave me a goddamned heart attack," Henry bit out as Alex stepped through.

"He was going to draw attention we don't need." Pez stepped back, hands up in a placating gesture. "I just covered his mouth before he could, Henry, he's fine. Breathe."

"Jesus." Henry breathed deeply, then offered Pez a nod. "Quick thinking."

"Everyone's alright?" Alex confirmed.

"Peachy." Henry huffed, dropping down to crouch beside a naked and still dripping wet Peter.

"Peter, what do you call if—?"

"I know what to call, but I wasn't in—" Peter started to protest, but Henry took him by the shoulders, hushed him.

"I know you weren't, but I need you to remind me you know, okay?"

"Red," Peter told him cooperatively.

"Good boy." Henry pulled him into a hug in spite of the fact that he was sopping wet, pressed a kiss to his hair. "Thank you."

Alex's quizzical look must've asked the question for him, since Pez offered, "Danger codeword."

"I know what to do," Peter added when Henry released him, seeming a little petulant that Henry didn't trust him.

"I know you do, I just heard someone muffle you and..." Henry hesitated slightly. Alex knew it probably also didn't help that they'd just been talking about the incident, prior to, well. "I was  
distracted, I didn't think about why you didn't call the right word. What did you call me for, Peter?"

"Pez wants to talk t'you." Peter gestured his head towards Pez.

"When I asked you to get him for me, Pete, I meant to show me the passage." Pez chuckled at Peter, who gave a sheepish grin.

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's alright." Pez glanced over at the shelf. "Swiveling bookcase, huh? Neat. Been in both these rooms a hundred times, never would've guessed."

"That's the point." Henry smirked, glancing back at Peter. "Dry off, get ready for bed. Pez and I have to talk, then I'll read to you for a bit, alright?"

"And Alex?" Peter insisted.

"And Alex," Henry confirmed. "Now put some clothes on, you're far too old to run around in your underwear."

"How about I help you get ready?" Alex offered to Peter, uncertain if the conversation between Pez and Henry was meant for him as well. Neither man said anything, so Alex supposed not.

"Alright! Come on." Peter took his hand, pulled him over to the dresser. He tugged open a drawer with visible effort and started going through the variety of nightclothes. "What's your favorite color?"

"Blue," Alex answered, "But you should dry off first, you'll soak your clothes if you put them on  
Now."

"I know that." Peter stuck up his chin insistently. "I was just picking 'em out."

"Whatever you say." Alex chuckled.

Peter stuck his tongue out at him, then yanked out his selection to lay on the bed. "Red is better. You should make red your favorite color."

"I suppose I could consider it." Alex pretended to think on it.

"Red is cool cause it's on my sheets, see? And it's like apples—that's my favorite fruit—and there's also red birds outside my window sometimes, and in the courtyard the leaves turn red in Fall, and plus it's even the color of guts!"

"And exactly how many times has your father let you see 'guts'?" Alex raised a dubious eyebrow.

Henry was overprotective at best; Alex highly doubted Peter had been allowed any sort of gory anatomy demonstrations.

"None times," Peter admitted, "Yet! But that's what Harry said, and he saw someone's insides get ripped out. He said they were red and wrinkly and squishy-looking, but his dad wouldn't let him touch 'em. You've been lots of places, have you ever touched guts?"

"Enough about guts, Peter, get dressed," Henry called from the other end of the room.

"Okay!" Peter called back, then, quietly, "But have you?"

"No," Alex answered, "Though I've seen a lot of blood, and red's not so pretty a color, then."

"But you're a knight." Peter wrinkled his nose, seeming confused. "How can you be afraid of blood?"

"Not afraid. I just don't like it much when I know the person who's bleeding." Alex moved to fetch Peter a towel, since he didn't seem to be getting it on his own. "Here, dry off."

Peter dried off in silence, apparently pondering what Alex had said. When he was about halfway dressed, he finally remarked, "I guess I don't like it when Daddy bleeds."

Alex couldn't help a bittersweet smile. "You and me both, buddy."

"Or the knights," Peter elaborated, "Or if Beatrice did, or Harry, or Gwen. Or you. Do you bleed?"

Alex laughed. "I try not to. But if I get hurt, sure. Everyone bleeds."

"But you're the Lost Hero, you're magic," Peter explained rationally.’

"Your father may have exaggerated a little about my powers, Pete." Alex chuckled, attempting to  
help Peter get the nightshirt over his head.

"I can do it," Peter insisted, pushing his hands away to finish squirming into it on his own. "So  
you're only a little magic?"

"I'm afraid I'm not really magic at all," Alex admitted, "Sorry."

"Oh." Peter considered this. "If you were magic, what kinda power would you want?"

"Time travel." Alex didn't so much as pause.

"That'd be cool!" Peter agreed, eyes widening, "We could go back in time, see my granddad, or even my great grandparents! Or we could go to the future, see what the kingdom looks like in a billion years. My great-billionth grandkid would be older'n me, I bet."

"What on earth do you have my seven year old talking about grandkids for?" Alex heard Henry give a little snort behind him.

"We're talkin' about time travel!" Peter told him eagerly.

"Ah," Henry commented. Alex wasn't certain how to read that. He glanced behind them to see if Pez still needed anything, but he was gone.

"What did Pez need?"

"Just the daily update. Well, four days worth of them."

"Anything?"

Henry shook his head. "Nothing of note, or he would've told me earlier."

"What about you, Daddy?" Peter bounced up to him. "What kind of power would you want, if you had magic?"

"Time travel would certainly be nice," Henry admitted softly, glancing up at Alex, "But the present's not too bad."

"Then what would you want?" Peter asked again.

Henry held Alex's gaze another moment, before turning back to Peter. "Flight, I think. Seems to me like dragons have it pretty good, I might like to be able turn into one of those if I could."

Peter's eyes went wide in awe. "That'd be the best!"

"You would want to be a dragon." Alex couldn't help a laugh.

"Well, what would you want?" Henry challenged, "Forgetting what can't be changed, what power would you go for?"

Alex considered that a moment. "Super strength."

"You've got a muscle obsession, that's what it is." Henry snorted. "Having biceps the size of tennis balls isn’t enough?"

"Are they?" Peter eyed Alex's arms dubiously, leaning up close to him, clearly trying to remember how big tennis balls were. Alex flexed for him. Henry's eyebrows jumped.

"Good god, they get bigger."

"Not much." Alex couldn't help coloring a little at the appreciative look in Henry's eyes. It'd been a long, long time since Henry had looked at him that way.

"You're already the strongest there is, I dunno what you wanna be stronger for anyway," Peter told him distractedly, still busy sizing his head up against Alex's arm.

"Strongest there is seems like a bit of an overstatement." Alex laughed. "But thank you."

"No, Daddy said so." Peter frowned when he was contradicted, turning to Henry. "Right?"

"Well..." Henry hedged, "I may have fibbed a little about certain details when I was telling you those stories."

"Exactly what fibs have you been telling about me?" Alex raised an eyebrow, teasing him. It was Henry's turn to color a little, the back of his neck going red like it always had. Some things didn't  
change, then. He teased him a little more, "What? Were you wishing I'd been this strapping all Along?"

"No," Henry scoffed immediately, "You were much cuter as you were."

"Alex used to be cute?" Peter peered up at them. Henry's eyes widened a fraction and his neck went a little redder.

"I don't know." Alex grinned. "You tell me, Henry."

"Cute, as in—cute the way you are, Peter, as in he was younger, more of a, um." Henry stumbled a little trying to explain away his slip of the tongue. Then, with a bit of a huff at Alex, he settled on, "You know, he was mostly like a baby duck, all gangly and fumbling."

"A baby duck," Alex repeated with a shake of his head, "Flatter a guy, why don't you?"

"But you said he was strong." Peter frowned, confused now.

"No, I said..." Henry trailed off, glancing at Alex embarrassedly before clearing his throat and finishing quickly, "I said strength was all in the heart now I think it's past someone's bedtime—"

"Aw, Dad—" Peter started, but Henry was already hustling him over to where the bookshelf was still open.

"Having you around is like owning a parrot," Henry grumbled good-naturedly at Peter, pinching his side and earning a yelp of protest, "Except far more work."

"Well, I for one am very interested in what the parrot has to say." Alex grinned, following after them. "Strength is all in the heart, and, what was it he said about me, Peter? Strongest there is?"

"You're not nearly as funny as you think you are," Henry warned him, but his clear good humor was still very present in his eyes, "Besides, it's past Peter parrot's bedtime—"

"I'm not a parrot!" Peter protested loudly, still wiggling away from Henry, who tickled him anytime he got close enough.

"That's right, you're not just any parrot," Henry agreed seriously, "You're the prince parrot."

"I'm a prince boy!" Peter informed him indignantly.

"Are you certain? You've got those big old eyes, you're very colorful, you make loud squawking noises when I do this—"

"Dad!" Peter yelped, swatting Henry's hands away, "Quit ticklin' me!"

"Get in bed and shut your beak, and maybe I will," Henry challenged him.

Peter scampered along a little quicker, up into Henry's bed to burrow under the covers until only his feet were visible. Alex pressed a finger to his lips at Henry, then signaled for him to move to  
the end of the bed. Henry, curious but compliant, did as Alex gestured. Alex tickled Peter's bare feet and the boy shot forward under the covers, only for Henry to pop his head under them and  
announce, "Boo!"

Peter shrieked and startled backwards, tangling himself up. Henry laughed so hard he could hardly stand straight, grabbing the bedframe to hold himself steady. Alex went after Peter, maneuvering his hands through the sheets until he found an arm—or leg?—and tugged. Peter rolled out, pout in full force.

"That was mean," he announced, but was clearly holding back giggles.

"If we're so mean, you probably don't want us to read you a story." Alex tried his best to hold back a laugh at the horrified look on Peter's face.

"Of course." Henry nodded sagely. "We'll go in the other room, leave you to try and sleep on your own—"

"No!" Peter shot across the bed, grabbing Alex, the nearest to him. "Don't go, please?"

"We're not going anywhere, Peter." Henry dropped the joke and joined Peter on the bed, "Just teasing you a little. Go get two books, then set the shelf back the way it belongs."

"Got it!" Peter agreed eagerly, scooting off the bed.

There was a brief moment where Alex stood awkwardly beside the bed. This wasn't the same bed, of course—not unless Henry had brought it with him when he'd moved chambers for whatever reason—but joining Henry on it still gave him pause. They were only going to read to Peter for a bit, entirely innocent, then Alex was going to leave and sleep elsewhere. Still, it still felt...disrespectful, almost, casually intimate in a way Alex no longer had the right to be.

"Alex." He glanced up. Henry was smiling, soft and private, like he used to. "Didn't I ever tell you that you think too much?"

"Only a thousand times. Didn't I ever tell you what that makes you?"

"The word 'hypocrite' might've been mentioned once or twice." Henry's smile turned wry, and he patted the bed. "Come on, then."

Alex joined him, careful not to sit as close as he wanted and make Henry uncomfortable, or to leave too much space between them and make it awkward. His careful positioning went to hell, however, when Henry just scooted closer and dropped his head against Alex's shoulder.

"I got 'em!" Peter crowed, squeezing back through the bookshelf passage and shutting it. Henry didn't move his head. Alex willed his heart to human speeds. Peter didn't seem to care in the  
slightest about his father's choice in headrest though, already tossing his books onto the bed and following after. He paused in crawling over Alex's lap to press his head up against Alex's chest.

"Wow!"

Alex tried his best to focus on Peter instead of how warm Henry felt against him, how his hair was longer now but still very soft against his cheek and— "What?"

"Your heartbeat's really fast," Peter told him, still with an ear to his chest, "I can hear it going Bumpabumpabumpa—"

"Yep, got it, thanks," Alex interrupted, embarrassed.’

"How fast exactly, Peter?" Henry grinned next to him, and that didn't help at all because Henry had a wonderful grin, even when he was shamelessly using his child to torture Alex.

"No need to elaborate, I'm—" Alex started, but Peter answered anyway.

"Like a rabbit heart." Peter peered up at him, concerned. "Are you okay?"

"My heart—" His traitorous, dastardly heart— "—just does that sometimes, Peter, it's fine."

"Promise?" Peter looked worried now. Alex felt awful.

"I promise. I'm perfectly fine," he assured, allowing himself a little glance Henry's way, "Better than ever."

"What if it's 'cause of the poison?"

"Believe me, it's not." Alex stroked a hand through Peter's hair like he'd seen Henry do. It seemed to work; Peter relaxed a little. "I'm very, very used to it."

"Alright," Peter acquiesced, giving up the interrogation and starting to wiggle his way between them.

"And what do you think you're doing?" Henry hoisted Peter out from between them, settling him in his lap instead.

"But I wanna sit next to you and Alex both—" Peter started to complain.

"Then Alex can lean in real close," Henry told him with finality, closing the space to rest against Alex once again, "I'm tired and sore and I finally got comfortable, you're not stealing my spot."

Alex knew he was smiling like a loon and that Henry knew it too, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He leaned in close like Henry had helpfully suggested and offered Peter his hand. "Next time you can sit my lap, how about that? We'll swap off."

"Fine." Peter accepted Alex's hand, squeezing it tightly. He tugged Alex's arm across himself like a blanket, then used his free hand to pass the first book to Henry. "Start with this one."

"Start with this one..." Henry raised an eyebrow at him, waiting.

"Please," Peter complied easily. He was already starting to relax a little, his eyes drooping a bit as he got comfortable.

"Sir Gregg and the Terrible Hydra." Henry glanced at the cover. "Been a while since we read this one."

"Mhm," Peter agreed sleepily, curling in a little closer and propping his arms up over Alex's as Henry opened the book and began to read.

Henry had always had a good reading voice, strong and steady. Alex himself was starting to doze a bit by the time Henry stopped, and for a moment he wasn't certain why Henry had dropped off mid-sentence. Then he saw Peter, already out like a light and drooling on Henry's shirt. Alex was able to disentangle himself much easier than Henry—Peter only had his arm, and didn't so much as bat an eye when Alex slipped it from his grasp—so Henry passed the books to him to put away.

Alex shook his head a little as he stood, trying to clear the fog of drowsiness from his system. He went to replace the books, or at least put them somewhere on the shelf, since there seemed to be no discernable order to it. When he turned back, Henry was easing Peter under the covers. He watched as Henry bent to brush Peter's hair back and lay a kiss on his forehead, the very picture of a doting father. Something in Alex spiked, a flare of longing so sharp and fierce he ached with it. The moment passed and he willed it down. Henry stood, eyeing him for a moment before moving to the nightstand and putting out the light.

Was that his dismissal? Alex wasn't certain. It was too dark to see Henry anymore, but he was close enough that he could reach the bookshelf. He felt along the bottom shelf, sought out the thickest book with his fingertips and gave a tug. The bookshelf moved, light from the other room spilling in and lighting up Henry, who just smiled at him mysteriously and went into Peter's room. What else could Alex do but follow?

"Heartbeat like a rabbit's, huh?" was the first thing Henry said to him, all teasing smiles and kind eyes. It was so familiar it hurt. "Guess I still got it after all."

Alex crossed to him in two short steps, had him in his arms before he'd even taken a breath, was kissing him on the next. He just—he wanted, wanted Henry and Peter and stories before bed and adventures out together and everything else this wonderful, incredible life he'd thrown away had to offer. He thought back to the hundreds of millions of moments he'd wanted desperately to come home, to give up, to run back to Henry and beg his forgiveness. It should've been sooner. It should've never happened at all but Henry was here anyway, was holding him close and kissing him back like Alex had never so much as dreamed he might again and that was—it felt—

"Alex." Henry hadn't gone far, just enough to speak. Alex ran a hand through Henry's hair, thumbing at the stubborn curl that, after all this time, still didn't seem to quite want to fall into  
place. Henry held his wrist gently. "Darling. Look at me."

"Why would I ever want to look at anything else?" Alex murmured, dropping his hand to Henry's gace.

Henry's eyes had the beginnings of laugh lines around the edges. He shouldn't have those, Alex thought idly. He was too young for it, except...well, he wasn't, not really. God, they were almost thirty. Nearly three decades, and Alex's world still revolved around Henry like it had since he'd been just five years old, grabbed by the hand and told to run. Three decades and here they were.

Trying.

And then he was laughing. Giggling, really, giggling hysterically and clasping Henry's face a little tighter and kissing him because they were older and they were broken but they were here and they were trying, God, they were trying, and that was so much more than Alex ever could have asked for. The revelation had him far too giddy not to smile like a fool, not to laugh or giggle or whatever it was he was doing, but it was alright because Henry was laughing too, laughing and laughing and laughing until neither of them could catch a full breath. They'd barely moved away at all, still bumping noses and staring into each other's eyes, still close enough Alex could feel the gust of Henry's laugh on his lips and see each of his eyelashes and the way his laugh lines crinkled up a little more every time he met Alex's eyes. Alex kissed him on the tail-end of a laugh, messy and inelegant and God, he'd never wanted to hold onto a moment more in all his life.

"I love you so much, Henry," Alex told him. It wasn't enough, it never had been, but it'd have to do until he could find a way to write it in the stars.

"I love you too." Henry caressed a hand over his cheek. "The way you act, I think you forget that."

"I could never forget." Alex kissed him again, held it a long moment before giving in to the need for air. "I only pray you never come to your senses."

"I have come to my senses." Henry smiled, the private one Alex knew was only for him. "I've got you in my arms again, haven't I?"

"For as long as you'll have me," Alex swore ardently, arms going a little tighter around Henry's waist. Something seemed to occur to Henry, who dropped his gaze between them. "What is it?"

"The letter."

"Did you read it?"

"No. I decided...I'd like you to read it to me." Henry stepped back from Alex enough to reach into the inner pocket of his shirt. "You wrote it, after all. Might as well hear you explain yourself in your own voice."

"Alright." Alex nodded. He hadn't anticipated doing so, didn't particularly relish the thought of reading his horribly flawed plan out loud, but if Henry wanted him to he wouldn't hesitate. Henry moved from his inner pocket to the others, patting himself down with increased urgency. "Do you not have it on you?"

"No, I know that I did, I didn't let the damned thing out my—Christ, not again." Henry turned his pockets inside out now. "Fuck!"

"Henry—"

"Just give me a minute," Henry snapped, a little sharp. It was just the panic, no real anger. "It was in this pocket, I know it was—"

"I can recite it, if that's what's worrying you."

Henry paused, stared at him. "You can?"

"Those were my last words to you, or at least so I thought; you don't think I didn't run them over in my head a hundred, a thousand times?" Alex couldn't help a bit of a smile. "You know how I get."

"I do." Henry's tension seemed to ease a little, though not much. "But if I don't have it, that still  
leaves the question of who does."

"There's not much in it they don't already know," Alex admitted, "Or haven't guessed, at least, no matter who they are. It'd be more confirmation than incrimination, at this point."

"I suppose we can go about finding it tomorrow, then." Henry rubbed his forehead, still seeming  
agitated. "Unless it's lost in the forest somewhere, or—"

"My dearest Henry," Alex quoted. Henry fell silent immediately. The tension bled out of him a little more, though Alex knew it wouldn't last; he was hardly going to like what the letter said, they'd been over that much. "First and foremost, I apologize. I failed you. It has—"

"You did not fail—" Henry started, riled as Alex had known he'd be.

"Henry," Alex interrupted, trying not to laugh again as he pulled Henry back into his arms, "You can't argue with a letter I wrote ten years ago."

Henry muttered something that sounded an awful lot like I can try into his shoulder before giving a little sigh. "Go on."

"It has become clear to me that I can't protect you as I am, and you deserve more than I can provide. Much though I love you, you have to do what's right for your kingdom. You'll marry someone else one day, and if you treat her with half much love as you did me, she'll be the luckiest woman alive."

"Like I could ever love someone half as much as I love you." Henry hugged him closer, pressed a kiss to his neck.

"No arguing," Alex reminded him, but the smile was already blooming on his face. "If I'm to have a place in your future, it'll be as your manservant and guardian; I can't be that to you if I can't protect you. I wish many things, but most of all I wish to stay by your side. Unfortunately, to do so, I must leave it for a time."

Henry gave a tiny snort, likely at his idea of 'a time' being near to ten years. Alex squeezed his arm for silence.

"I'm leaving to train, to become as strong as you need me to be. When I can protect you as you deserve, I'll return to you. This I promise. I love you with all that I am. Alexander Claremont-Diaz."

"You're just as big an idiot as I suspected. Henry Fox-Mountchristian-Windsor." Henry was trying to be smart, but he was sagging a little against Alex's shoulder even as he spoke.

For all that they'd been 'asleep' for days, Alex still felt drained. Emotionally, in the beginning, then as his brush with death and the high that Henry still loved him wore down—not much, but  
enough that he could think straight again—physically. He was sore everywhere, unused to movement and even less used to standing, holding someone up. If Henry felt that same, it was no wonder he was slumping against Alex.

"Get some sleep." Alex kissed the top of his head. It was strange how easy it was now that he was taller than Henry; he never could've managed it when they were young, not standing. "We'll hunt down the letter tomorrow."

Henry nodded, holding onto him a moment longer before reluctantly stepping away. It took all of Alex's willpower not to pull him back. "Tomorrow. Goodnight, Alex."

Alex gave in, caught his arm and leaned in to steal one last, chaste kiss. "Goodnight, Henry. I love you."

"I don't think I'll ever tire of hearing you say that." A tired smile played on Henry's lips. "I love you too, darling. Sleep well."

"Sleep well," Alex echoed.


	13. Chapter 13

It took Phillip two weeks to make his move.

They were able to postpone talks of funeral rites, thankfully; not only could they not produce bodies, obviously, but Peter never would've managed believable grief in public for an entirem ceremony. After the first week passed with no signs of movement on Phillip's end, however, they had Peter resume leaving his chambers for meals and lessons to show that he was "improving". He only ever ate with the knights anyway, and Henry trusted Peter's tutor enough to bring him in on the secret. A side effect of Peter easing back into his usual schedule, however, was that Alex and Henry were left alone for increasingly large portions of the day.

It was awkward at first, undoubtedly. Alex was still tiptoeing around him, still cautious and careful and always waiting for Henry to pull away. He didn't like Alex's hesitance, but he understood it; he'd been angry, at first. He'd obviously had every right to be, but the longer they stayed cooped up together the more they reconnected and the more Henry felt it fading away. He would never agree with the decision Alex had made and he would never forget how those years had felt, but his ability to forgive it grew with every moment.

They spent a large majority of the time just trading stories from the decade they'd missed, relearning the minutiae of each other's lives. Henry heard all about June and Nora, the people he apparently owed many a thank you to for keeping Alex's ever-headstrong self alive. Henry's stories revolved mostly around Peter, but Peter was by far the most interesting thing that had  
happened to him in those years and Alex didn't seem to mind. If anything, Alex was enraptured; he adored Peter, that much was obvious, and if you asked Peter, Alex all but hung the moon in  
the sky. It was good to see, even if it made Henry near dizzy with hope for the future.

There were times they ignored words altogether, times Henry just wanted to hold and be held and if that was a little sappy, so be it. He called Alex beloved every chance he got just to see the  
brilliant smile it earned him, treasured the hitch in Alex's breathing and the race of his pulse anytime Henry so much as brushed fingers with him. It was different than before, when they'd both been far more assured of themselves and their reception, but touchingly sweet nonetheless. It would never be the same, true, but it wasn't bad. Wasn't even worse, not really. He had Alex and  
he had Peter and if it'd taken them all longer to come together than Henry would've liked, well, dwelling on the past wouldn't do anything to change it. He was happy with this. It was hard not to  
be, with Alex at his side again. They were in a good place; spending all their time together would've been a disaster even just a week prior. Now...

"You still have this?" Alex plucked one of the books off the shelf, waved it at him.

Henry glanced over. "Sure. Peter loves it."

"What seven year old doesn't like marauder stories?" Alex smiled as he flipped through the colorful book.

"Or ten year old." Henry chuckled, leaning back to sit on the edge of the bed.

"I learned fast enough once I finally got a book in my hand." Alex smirked at him. "We can't all have private tutors and fancy libraries."

Henry did his best to play at being offended. "And here I thought I made a fantastic tutor."

"You were impatient and distracting." Alex laughed. "But you provided me with plenty of practice material, I'll give you that."

"It was good for the both of us," Henry admitted, "My father thought the dozens of books I snuck out of there meant I was finally taking my studies seriously."

"As if you've ever taken anything seriously." Alex rolled his eyes fondly.

"Now that's just insulting. I'm a deeply serious person. I'm all about rules and regulations, formalities abound—"

"Your knights still call you 'H'." Alex grinned.

"Just Pez." Henry smirked. "And if you think that's informal, I've got another knight that keeps calling me 'sweetheart', perhaps I should get him under control?"

Alex colored a little, still grinning. "I didn't say there was anything wrong with...nicknames. You've just always had a rather different style about you, that's all."

"No, nothing wrong with 'nicknames', not when said with the utmost of affection." Henry met Alex's eyes purposefully with a smile. "Darling."

"Use that enough times and one of these days I'm going to stop being quite so weak for it." Alex replaced the book on the shelf, already moving to Henry's side even as he spoke.

"I doubt that very much." Henry got a hand on his waist the moment Alex was close enough.

"And I think you like my rather different style. In fact, I daresay you love it."

"I love everything about you." Alex bent forward a little, cupping the back of Henry's neck and meeting him halfway for a kiss. "Even when you let your knights get away with every informality under the sun. Perhaps especially."

"Says the knight kissing his king," Henry teased. Alex flinched a little at the reminder of status; Henry hadn't meant it like that, and he didn't like the reaction at all. Before Alex could open his  
mouth to counter, Henry quickly added, "But don't think of it like that. It's just you and me."

"You and me, a king and a knight," Alex pointed out.

"Once a prince and a manservant. Somewhat more illicit then, actually," Henry countered, "You've rather stepped up in the world, as I believe was your goal. Not that I wouldn't still be with you if  
you'd stayed as you were."

"What do you imagine the others think of it all?" Alex asked. Henry couldn't help a laugh.

"Pez's told me in so many words that the consensus seems to be 'finally'. I can't say I disagree." Henry stroked a hand up Alex's back, partially to soothe and partially just to feel him, draw him closer. "My knights are good people, Alex, you know that. They're not the kind to care about noble blood. How can they, when more than half of them don't have so much as a drop of it? Carnies and bandits and bastards, they've all acted outside their given stations in life, and our well-guarded kingdom is certainly grateful for it. No one among them would begrudge either of us  
happiness over something so petty."

"I suppose not." Alex was smiling so widely now he hardly looked like he could contain it. 

"What did I say?"

Alex kissed him instead of answering. It was more intense than Henry was expecting, but he welcomed the urge and opened his mouth eagerly at the first pass of Alex's tongue. He didn't get an answer for a long time; it wasn't until he'd nearly forgotten he'd even asked a question that Alex parted from him. He caressed a hand over Henry's cheek, met his gaze with that same wide  
smile and thrilled look to his eyes.

"You're really happy?"

Henry blinked, admittedly surprised. "You hadn't gathered that?"

"I didn't think you were unhappy...but I know this isn't how you wanted it all to go."

"I wanted you." Henry kissed him, soft and slow. "That's all that ever really mattered. Maybe it didn't happen the way I would've wanted, but since when does life bend to my whims, or anyone's? You're here now. That's more than enough to make me happy."

"I love you." Alex drew him in close, pressed kisses along his temple. "I don't deserve you, but if it makes you happy I swear I'll—"

"Alex." Henry tilted his head away, just enough to catch Alex's eyes again. "Enough with that, alright? I forgive—"

Alex interrupted him immediately. "Don't say that, I don't deserve—"

"You do." Henry shook his head firmly. "I forgive you, because you deserve to be forgiven. You were young. You made a mistake. It was horrifically stupid, but it was a mistake and you recognize that now. Don't you?"

"Of course I do." Alex drew him close. "Had I known..."

"You didn't." Henry leaned into his touch, turned enough to press a kiss to his palm. He paused for a moment as Alex's words sunk in. He didn't pull away, but he did stop leaning in. "What if there was nothing to know?"

"What do you mean?" Alex's brow furrowed in confusion.

"If Arthur had never passed, if Peter had never come under my care..." He didn't want to ask. They'd made up a lot of ground and he didn't want to lose that, didn't want to let what-ifs and mythical scenarios set them back, but...could Alex really have just walked away again? If he could, how was Henry supposed to live with that? With knowing the only reason Alex was here  
was because they had an easy out, that if things were different and difficult he would've bailed again—

"Never." Alex moved forward, pulling Henry back into his arms—he hadn't even realized he'd been leaning away—and kissing him once, twice, three times before shifting back just enough to lock eyes with Henry determinedly and repeat himself. "Never. I would never have been able to do that twice, not if you'd been alone, not if you'd had a wife, not as you were. I took one look at you  
and I knew I'd made a mistake. I didn't want to admit it to myself then, you know how much I hate to admit when I'm wrong, but I was and I knew it the moment I laid eyes on you."

Henry ducked his head, pressed his face against Alex's shoulder and absorbed the words, the relief he felt to be able to believe them. Alex meant every word of it, he knew that much from the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes. If there was one thing he'd never doubted, it was his ability to read Alex's intentions. Still...

"Peter presents a solution," Henry said after a beat, "The one stroke of luck I think we've ever gotten. But tell me...tell me if we hadn't had that stroke, that even if we'd had all the odds in the damn universe stacked against us—"

"I'd still be here, sweetheart," Alex promised softly, running both hands over Henry's back, "We were always going to wind up here, heir or no heir. I know that now. I only wish I'd known it then. I love you, Henry. I love you with all that I am and every stroke of bad luck in the universe couldn't change that."

"And I you," Henry murmured in return, pressing the words into Alex's neck with a kiss. "I love you, Alex. I love you and I forgive you and I don't want to keep...dwelling, on this. I've always  
liked us better as equals, even when you were just some mouthy little brat who had no compunctions about telling your prince to 'quit being a fathead'. Not that I was ever quite sure  
what exactly that meant."

"I had the vocabulary of an illiterate servant's boy." The smile was back and brighter than ever on Alex's lips. "I hadn't yet learned the word 'arrogant'. Or 'egotistical'. Or—"

"I think you've managed to paint the picture." Henry leaned back a little to give Alex an amused look.

"Or," Alex continued anyway, leaning closer again and running a hand through Henry's hair, "How wrong you would prove me."

"Don't fool yourself, darling." Henry tipped his head up for just a quick peck, more a tease than an actual kiss. "I only ever learned to stop being such a 'fathead' because I had you around to call me on it."

"Glad I could be of some use to you, then," Alex teased.

"Aside from giving me all your love and affection, you mean?" Henry gave a wry smile.

"Aside from that." Alex leaned back in and pulled Henry closer by the hips.

He didn't quite kiss him, just bumped his nose and touched their foreheads together, met his eyes with a soft smile. Henry returned it and for a moment they stayed just like that, watching each other and breathing in time and for all that it was ludicrously sappy of him, Henry would've sworn he could feel Alex's heartbeat as clearly as he could his own.

He stroked a hand up over the back of Alex's neck, ran his fingers through the ever so slightly curled ends. Alex's hair was getting longer. He'd probably cut it soon, he'd never been able to stand having long hair. Henry raised his other hand and stroked a thumb over Alex's cheek, up his jaw, before tugging him along. Alex closed his eyes, prepared for a kiss, but Henry moved as well.

He scooted back and laid down, pulling Alex along with him. Alex's eyes flickered back open, cautious and careful, but Henry pressed a small kiss just under his ear the way he always used to and kept running his fingers reassuringly over the nape of Alex's neck. Any tension bled from Alex at the two intimately familiar gestures of comfort, and he followed Henry's lead onto the bed  
without further pause.

He got a knee on either side of Henry's lap and bent forward to kiss him softly. There was a brief moment of unhurried tenderness, but it was derailed when Henry angled his hips up to rub them  
together for a bit of friction. The sound Alex made into his mouth could be called nothing short of desperate. Henry arched up a little more to do it again, slid his arms down to wrap around Alex's waist and press them closer.

"Henry." Alex inhaled sharply, a worried sort of anxiety leaking back into his features. "God, Henry, if you don't intend—"

"Relax." Henry couldn't help a grin. It'd been a goddamn decade since he'd been able to say this: "Let's."

Alex's eyes lit up immediately, a brilliant smile following just as quick. "Yeah?"

Henry kissed him, because he'd never been able to do anything else when Alex smiled at him like that. "Hell yeah."

Peter was confused.

He wanted to ask Alex himself, or Daddy, but since that wasn't an option he ducked out of Daddy's chambers and set off in search of Alex's friends, June and Nora, instead. He asked around and Shaan pointed him in the direction of the front gates, where they were on gate duty today. He couldn't walk through the gates, Daddy had warned the guards a hundred times not to let Peter talk them into letting him out alone, so he climbed over instead. When he was atop the wall and could see them, he called out.

"June ! Nora!"

"What the—?" They both spun and began to draw their swords, until they caught sight of him.

"Peter?"

"Hey!" He grinned at them, starting to shimmy down. "You guys're Alex's best friends, right?"

"Sure." June squinted up the wall. "But what are you doing climbing the walls like that? If you fell your dad would kill us just for seeing it."

"I do it all the time, it's fine, I'm really good." Peter casually tugged the hem of his pants down a little so they wouldn't see where he'd scraped himself.

"Does your dad know you do it all the time?" Nora eyed him.

"Sorta," Peter fibbed, fidgeting a little.

"It's not safe for you to hang around outside the castle walls alone, Peter." June pointed out.

"Your dad would be pissed if—"

"Angry," Nora shot June a look, like Peter hadn't already heard Daddy and Pez and Rafael say that and more a hundred times.

"Angry," June corrected herself with a roll of her eyes, "If he knew you were out here unprotected."

"I'm not unprotected," Peter insisted. He dropped to the ground at last, brushed himself off. "I got you. And it's not like I'm gonna go any further, I just have t'ask you about somethin'."

Nora gave in first. "What did you have to ask?"

"How come Alex'll sleep with Daddy but not with me?" Peter demanded. Both woman's eyebrows shot up and they exchanged a glance.

"What exactly did Alex say to you, Peter?" Nora asked after a moment.

"He didn't have to say anything." Peter frowned. "I came back from lessons today and they were sleeping together in Daddy's chambers. So how come Alex'll sleep there so long as I'm not there?  
Does he not like me anymore? Did I do something bad? And how come they're sleeping in the middle of the day anyway? Why is—"

"Okay, okay, just...slow down a second." June held up both hands. "You did nothing wrong, kid, I promise. Alex adores you, it's nothing personal. They just...well, it's sort of...the thing is  
—"

"The three of you probably wouldn't fit," Nora interjected.

"Exactly," June agreed quickly.

"That's not true." Peter disagreed. "Daddy's bed is huge, and they were only even using one side of it."

"Well..." June shuffled a little. "Maybe they didn't know it was big enough, before."

"So now we can have a proper sleepover?" Peter brightened.

"That's a question for your p—people." June stammered a little. Her eyes went wide, like she'd surprised herself, before she finished with, "Uh. Yeah. People."

Nora was shooting June weird looks now. Peter frowned up at her. "What d'you mean, 'people'?"

"It's—well, you know, people, as in..." June scratched the back of her head.

"As in the people you should ask." Nora filled in. "So, Alex. And your dad."

"And definitely not us," June clarified.

"It's kind of a father-son conversation." Nora squeezed his shoulder.

"Definitely." June nodded.

Peter sighed. They weren't going to help him, then. He turned about with a bit of a huff, got his footing on the wall and started climbing back up with a mutter of, "Fine, don't help me. Some aunts you are."

"Hey!" June tugged on his ankle. "You're a rude little thing, you know that?"

"Been told." Peter stuck his chin up, kicked June 's hand away. "What're you gonna do about it?"

"Do you know what an aunt actually is?" Nora looked at him curiously.

"Duh," Peter lied.

"What's an aunt?"

"Like..." Peter hazarded a guess. "A really older sister?"

"We're not that old." June flicked him.

"And that's not quite right, anyway." Nora chuckled. "An aunt is the sister of a parent."

That didn't make any sense. Peter dropped back down to the ground to ask, "Then how come you keep sayin' I can call you aunts? You're not related to Daddy."

"We're pretty close to Alex, though." June ruffled his hair. "Like siblings."

Peter considered that. "But Alex's not my parent."

"Suppose not." Nora nodded agreeably. "But most people have two parents."

"I used to." He couldn't remember it, but Daddy had told him about it. That he'd once had a mother and father that had made him, and that after they'd died he'd gotten the father he had now,  
the one that took care of him. "But Daddy says I've got him and he's got me and that's all we need."

"Well." June exchanged a glance with Nora. "I'm sure you don't need anyone else. But you like having Alex around, don't you?"

"Of course! He's funny and he's patient and he teaches me all sorts of stuff, like what to do if someone's bigger'n you in a fight, and where to find const'lations in the sky, and how to do a voice he says will always get Daddy to laugh no matter how mad he is. Alex's the best," Peter enthused. He paused a moment, a thought occurred to him. "Wait, are you sayin'he could be my other parent?"

June and Nora exchanged a glance. He really wished they'd stop doing that, he wasn't stupid, he knew it meant they weren't telling him something.

"Well..." June hedged.

"Fine." Peter got a handhold on the wall and swung up. "I'll ask him myself."

"No!" They both blurted at once. June lunged forward, snagged him by the waist before he could even get a foot on the wall. "Whoa there, buddy, let's talk this through for a second."

"You can't ask someone to be your parent, it doesn't work like that," Nora explained.

"Why not?" Peter frowned. Seemed pretty simple to him. Alex would totally say yes, Alex liked him, Alex read to him and played with him and had promised to take him on a hundred new  
adventures when they could show their faces in public again.

"It's up to Alex and your dad, you can't ask him to be your parent, your dad has to ask him to marry him, or the other way around—"

"So I'll ask Daddy to marry him," Peter reasoned.

"No," they repeated immediately, eyes wide.

"God." Nora rubbed a hand over his face, narrowed her eyes at June over Peter's shoulder.

"They're going to kill us."

"Not if he doesn't say anything," June hissed. She jostled Peter, bouncing him a bit like she was trying to keep him calm. "Because you won't, right, pal?"

"Why not?" Peter insisted. What were they being so weird about? Why wouldn't Alex want to be his other parent?

"Because you can't just..." June finally put him down, then crouched on one knee to speak to him. "That's something they need to figure out for themselves. It's not about you."

"Of course it's about me," Peter disagreed, "He's gonna be my other parent."

"Maybe," Nora stressed.

"Most likely," June assured, patting his shoulder.

"Probably," Nora admitted, "But it's also about them. Mostly about them."

He definitely didn't like the sound of that. "But what about me?"

"They both adore you, that's the easy part." June smirked, ruffling Peter's hair again. "But there's a lot of history between them they've still got to work out."

"So I can't say anything?"

"Definitely not."

"I just have to wait?" Peter frowned. "But what if they take too long and I grow up?"

June laughed. "Peter, I promise you will not grow up before those two get married."

"Don't promise that," Nora hissed, "It took Alex ten years just to—"

"I can't wait another ten years!" Peter blurted, dismayed at the thought. "I'll be old!"

"Well, technically, you'll still be a kid," June pointed out, "Seventeen's not really all that old—"

"They aren't gonna get married until I'm seventeen?" Peter exclaimed, horrified.

"No, no no no," June rushed to say, "I'm sure they'll get married long before—"

"Stop promising him things!" Nora insisted, "They're idiots, remember?"

"Oh come on, they're sleeping together again, hell, I'm sure one of them blurted it out anyway and they're already engaged and this whole conversation will be pointless—"

"What's engaged?" Peter interrupted.

"Engaged to be married," Nora explained, "It means to promise someone that you'll marry them."

"So they're engaged?" Peter asked.

"I really hate you sometimes." Nora glared at June .

"Shut up." June shoved her, then bent back down to talk on Peter's level again. "Look, buddy: thing is, Alex and your dad have been pretty much engaged since before you were born—"

"Don't tell him that!" Nora interrupted, shoving June to the side. "That's not true, Peter, don't repeat that—"

"It's basically true—" June insisted.

"Except for the part where it's not—"

"Henry asked—"

"And Alex said—"

"He said in another situation he would accept Henry's hand in a heartbeat, this is that other situation!"

"I'm concerned about the fact that you don't seem to recognize that that's not actually a yes."

"What?" June scoffed. "Like Alex would say no if Henry so much as hinted again?"

"Of course not, but that doesn't mean Henry's going to ask—"

"Oh, that's right, I forgot about his crush on the baker's girl," June said in a weird, funny voice. Peter giggled. "Bullshit he won't ask."

"I'm not saying he shouldn't ask," Nora insisted, "I'm saying that when you put those two in a room together they get weird and complicated and unpredictable, and I wouldn't bet on anything."

"I'm with Peter, they get a month then I'm stealing the ring out of Alex's stuff and giving it Henry myself."

"I don't want you to be my other daddy." Peter frowned. "I want Alex."

"Have I mentioned that you're rude?" June scowled down at him, while Nora cracked up. "Because you're really rude. I would be the best dad you ever had, you little ingrate."

"No you wouldn't." Peter stuck his tongue out. Then, he glanced at Nora and whispered, "What's an ingrate?"

"Someone who's ungrateful," Nora whispered back with a chuckle, "Not you."

"I am not an ingrate," Peter declared to June loudly, "But you're a buttface."

Nora laughed so hard she had to grab the wall to keep herself upright. June gaped at him. "I'm a what?"

"A buttface." Peter held his chin up imperially. "Madam June Buttface."

Nora howled with laughter.

"I'm gonna be your aunt soon you little pri—"

"June !" Nora warned between gasps of laughter.

"Little...prince." June 's voice made it very clear prince was not at all the word she wanted to use. Peter ran through other 'pri—' sounding words he knew in his head. Pretty? Private? Prickly? "Where's the respect, huh?"

"Daddy said you're supposed to respect me." Daddy had also told him that if Peter wanted to be treated with true respect he had treat others with respect first, but Peter decided to leave that part  
out for the moment.

"Forget it, then." June crossed her arms with a cavalier shrug. "I don't think I want to help you make Alex your second parent after all."

"Aw, come on," Peter relented, tugging on June 's pant leg, "You have to!"

"What happened to not needing anyone else, huh?"

"I don't need him," Peter admitted, "But I want him. He's the best, he's gonna take me on adventures and teach me more stuff and I'll even share Daddy with him if he wants—"

"Don't think you'll have much of a choice with that one." Nora snorted.

"It'll be great," Peter insisted, "Come on, you gotta help me. Make Alex propose!"

"Who do you think got him back here in the first place?" June huffed. "We're trying, kid, believe me."

"If you're gonna be my aunts, you gotta help me out with this kind of stuff," Peter reasoned. He wasn't entirely sure if that's what aunts were supposed to do, but he'd been reliably informed that was what big sisters were supposed to do and the concept seemed similar. "Help me get 'em married."

June and Nora exchanged yet another look.

"June ..." Nora warned. June just grinned, squatted down to ruffle Peter's hair.

"Deal." When Nora glared at her and opened her mouth, June quickly continued, "But if we're going to be partners in crime, you have to learn to keep that mouth of yours shut."

"I can keep a secret." Peter scowled mutinously.

"That means no telling Alex or your dad about anything we just talked about," June insisted, "Engagements, marriage, Alex becoming your other parent, none of it."

"But how're we gonna get 'em together then?" Peter frowned, not understanding.

"Subtly," June told him with a wink.

"What's 'suttuly'?"

"Subtly," Nora corrected with a sigh, seeming to decide she might as well get on board, "It means secretly. Doing things without letting people know what you're up to."

"So they won't know it's us getting 'em married," Peter reasoned.

"More like so your dad won't throw us off the highest tower for telling you all this," June said, until Nora kicked her shin, "I mean, yes, so they won't know we're getting them married."

"So what do we do to be subtly?" Peter asked.

"To be subtle, we need a plan." June looked at Nora.

"Don't look at me, this was your awful idea."

"Sorry, did you have a better way of keeping him from blabbing?"

"I don't blab." Peter frowned, insulted. "I'm just very good at sharing information."

"Sure." June patted him on the head. Nora sighed.

"Okay, you want a plan, here's a plan: turn up the adorable factor," Nora instructed, "Pull out your best puppy dog eyes, hug Alex every chance you get, tell him and your dad all that stuff you said  
about him being the greatest. They'll melt for all that sappy, potential-family goodness like ice in July."

"I can do that." Peter bounced excitedly. He already hugged Alex a lot, and he'd already told Daddy about a hundred times this week how great it was to have Alex around so much. He'd already asked if Alex could live in Peter's room forever and Peter could move in with Daddy, but Daddy had just made a weird face and said that maybe they could 'come to some other arrangement', whatever that meant. "What're you guys gonna do?"

"We're gonna get Alex off his a—"

"Butt," Nora interrupted.

June rolled her eyes, but finished with, "Off his butt and into the game."

Peter didn't get it. "What game? And he's not on his butt, he's on his stomach. Well, on Daddy, mostly. But on his stomach on Daddy."

Both knights froze. "Uh. What?"

"He was sleeping with Daddy when I went in, all lying on top'a him and stuff," Peter explained slowly. Hadn't he already told them that? What were they looking at him like that for? "I told you that."

"You did, sort of, but, uh." Nora cleared his throat. "Sleeping? They were...definitely sleeping?"

"Alex snores really loud," Peter confirmed.

"Good." Nora looked weirdly relieved. "He does, you're right."

"How about you go find and play with your little pal Harry, huh?" June suggested, "We'll stay here and come up with more ideas."

"Oh." Peter frowned at being dismissed, then brightened a little. "Can I at least tell Harry that Alex's gonna be my other parent?"

"No," they both blurted at once.

"Can I tell MJ?"

"No—"

"Gwen?"

"Peter, I don't really think you're grasping the concept." June rubbed a hand over her face.

"Telling no one means telling no one, okay? You don't want to ruin it for them, do you?"

"No," Peter agreed, though he still wasn't sure how exactly his telling Harry about it would ruin it for Daddy and Alex. They didn't even know they were getting married yet. "I guess not."  
"Then you need to keep your lips zipped, got it?" Nora made a mouth-zipping gesture. Peter giggled at the rhyme, then mimicked the motion.

"Got it. You won't hear another word outta me. Not about anything, not to anyone." Peter paused.

"Except Pez. I can tell Pez, right?"

June and Nora groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait. I'll make it up to you, promise!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh why even pretend you have a schedule, right?

Alex woke to a booming explosion and the sound of alarm bells.

Henry startled next to him, jerking awake as well. They exchanged bleary, confused looks before rolling out of bed, trying to find their clothes and, somewhat more importantly, their weapons.  
Alex found himself distracted by memories of where they'd left off; it took him a solid few minutes to realize he'd been staring at his boots instead of putting them on. Henry seemed equally dazed, though Alex couldn't be sure if his thoughts were running the same track or if he was worried about the explosion. The responsible, sane answer would be that he was concerned about  
the explosion, of course, this was his kingdom and—

Henry tossed his shirt down in a huff and crossed to Alex, grabbed him by the belt and pulled him back into his arms for a deep, demanding kiss.

Definitely the same thoughts, then.

"Peter can sleep in his own damn bed," Henry informed him breathlessly.

Despite the rush of hope, Alex couldn't help asking, "Are you su—?"

Henry kissed him silent. He'd always been fond of doing that. Alex responded enthusiastically, at least until June's voice brought him down from cloud nine.

"Christ. Don't look, kid, you don't need to see that."

"I didn't need to see that," Nora muttered.

"There's something that prevents these situations, it's called knocking," Henry retorted, but his irritation suddenly drained to worry. It confused Alex a moment, before he followed Henry's gaze to a disgusted looking Peter tucked protectively behind June's legs.

"What were you doing that for?" Peter scrunched up his nose.

"That's..." Henry rubbed his forehead, then shook his head and went over to crouch in front of Peter, look him over. "Not something to discuss right now. Are you alright? Were you near the explosion?"

"I'm fine, we were outside the gates, why did Alex—?" Peter started, leaned to the side to frown at Alex over Henry's shoulder.

"We'll talk about that later, Peter," Henry interrupted gently, "Right now I need you to be a good boy and follow instructions, okay? Can you do that?"

"I—"

"Henry?" Rafael interrupted as he entered the room, sword drawn, before relaxing at seeing who was there. "Everyone secure?"

"Yes." Henry nodded. "Rafael, take Peter to the safe room and stay with him. Peter, I want you on your best behavior for him, you understand?"

"This is a real code red, huh?" Peter bit his lip.

"Afraid so, baby." Henry cupped his chin, tilted his head up with a smile. "But you're a big brave boy, right?"

"Right," Peter affirmed proudly.

"That's the spirit." Henry said. "Go with Rafael, he'll take you to the safe room. The rest of us are going to go kick the butt of whoever thinks they can just go knocking on our door like that."

"And then you're gonna come back?" Peter demanded, hugging Henry's knees tightly. Henry ran a hand through Peter's hair with an affectionate smile, used his fingers to comb it into place. 

"Always."

"If they want to put so much as a scratch on your father, they'll have to go through me first," Alex promised him determinedly, only for Peter to scowl.

"I don't want them scratching you neither, you're gonna be—"

Nora quickly stepped forward to clap a hand over his mouth. Alex narrowed his eyes at Nora, who looked tellingly guilty, but they didn't have the time to figure out whatever was going on there.  
"We'll talk more later." Henry eyed Nora as well, before bending down to give Peter a tight hug. "I love you, Peter. We'll be back as soon as we can." Henry nodded at Rafael, who nodded back sharply and escorted Peter away. Henry turned to June and Nora next. "Any idea where the explosion was?"

"East wing," June answered.

"Guest quarters, possibly," Nora clarified.

Henry got the implication. "Mike."

"Exactly."

"And or us," Alex pointed out as he retrieved the rest of their clothes, “The guest quarters are right next to the royal bedrooms, so…” he trailed off, tossing Henry's pieces to Henry as he found them. He hoped Nora might know when to leave well enough alone, but he shouldn't have bothered. After a beat of silence where she rocked on the balls of his feet like a fidgety child, Nora gave in and asked,   
"We're really not gonna talk about this?"

"I wasn't aware there was anything to be discussed with you." Henry shot Nora a look that clearly told him to leave it be and June elbowed her. It did no good.

"I listened to Alex go on about you for ten years—"

"Nora," Alex hissed. It wasn't exactly a secret, but that didn't make it any more relevant or any less embarrassing. A smile twitched on Henry's lips.

"—I think I at least deserve a confirmation that all his starry-eyed romanticism is finally being returned."

Henry smiled at Alex. "If you ever thought it wasn't, you were greatly mislead."

"So you still love him back, right?" June demanded, entirely undeterred by the current emergency, the fact that it was still a somewhat up in the air subject, or Alex's growing annoyance.

"June!"

"It's a fair question—"

"It's none of your business, is what it is." Alex chucked his boot at June's head, an easy enough toss for June to duck, just something to get her to listen up and butt out. "Lay off him. Both of you go guard the door, or something."

"Already tossing out orders...preparing to be a king, Alejandro?" June grinned, the utter shit, then ducked out the door anyway before Alex's other boot could follow.

It was sort of funny, but he'd honestly never thought about that. Marrying Henry, he'd thought about—dreamed about—since he was sixteen. The way in which his status would be affected should've at least peripherally occurred to him at some point or another, but it just...never quite had. He'd been young when it'd been a possibility, and later on it'd been nothing more than an  
hopeless dream. Logistics hadn't mattered. Wouldn't have, until Henry forgave him, something he'd never thought would actually happen. But it had. He'd been forgiven, which he could barely wrap his mind around, then they'd gone on to sleep together for the first time in ten years, which Alex absolutely hadn't yet wrapped his mind around, he could hardly be expected to think of  
anything else—

"You're overthinking again," Henry told him with a soft smile, retrieving Alex's boot and passing it to him with a kiss on the cheek. "We've got an explosion to investigate, a faked death to  
miraculously recover from, and a jilted brother and apparently sorcerer after my throne to deal with. Let's handle that."

"You don't seem quite as..."

"Caught off-guard?" Henry shrugged, looping his belt around his waist. "Well. It really never occurred to you? You're intelligent, kind-hearted, brave...not to mention you've got the best moral compass of anyone I know. You'd do this place wonders."

"I didn't spend my nights dreaming of how I could help the kingdom," Alex told him, a raw honesty coloring his voice as he remembered what it'd felt like to hold Henry again. Remembered the slide of his skin and the powerful flex of his hips against Alex's, the taste of his kiss and every perfect sound he'd made as they took each other apart in ways only they knew how. "I dreamed of this, Henry. To have you again, for even the briefest of moments..."

"I want nothing to do with brief." Henry secured his scabbard, the final piece, before crossing back to Alex at last and kissing him with all the tenderness Alex had missed most. "I want take out the bastard who thought attacking my castle was a smart move, then I want to bring you back here and have you to myself for hours. Days, if it can be managed."

"Anything you want." Alex clasped Henry's face in his hands, kissed him gently. "I owe you the world, Henry. Give me the time and I'll find a way to give it to you."

"Alex, you don't owe—" Henry was cut off by a second explosion. He hesitated, clearly reluctant to end the conversation but unable to ignore duty. "We're not finished."

"Never," Alex promised, kissing him once more before letting him lead them out the door.

"So your doors are exceptionally thin," June announced as they joined her and Nora in the hall, "Thought I might point that out. Before you attempt your sex marathon with a seven year old next door."

"A seven year old I now have to explain romantic relationships to." Henry scowled at June. "Thank you so much for that."

"Were you planning on not kissing Alex in front of him until he was twenty-five, or just eighteen?"

"I was planning on having a somewhat more abstract conversation with him to ease him into it, before presenting ourselves as an example." Henry sighed. "Which is now no longer an option."

"Does that mean you're going to start kissing in public now? I'm not sure I'm ready for—"

"Could you focus on the fact that we're under attack for possibly thirty seconds, Bug?" Alex interrupted, "You said east wing."

"Sure, but—" June looked about to start in on it again and Alex was prepared to cut her off, until Henry caught Alex by the back of the neck and tugged him into a quick and somewhat hasty—though of course not unpleasant—kiss.

"I love him, which means I might kiss him in view from time to time and do indeed plan on a much thicker door. Can you perhaps draw up some interest in the attack on our home now, or do you have more stupid questions?" Henry demanded.

Alex would be a little embarrassed if he weren't quite so turned on. Besides, June looked ashamed enough for the both of them. "Nope, yeah, I'm, uh. Good. Let's kick some ass."

"That's more like it." Henry gave a small nod of approval.

Alex tried to stop thinking about how incredibly hot it was when Henry went into command mode, failing right up until they turned the corner and were confronted by a dozen armed soldiers. He'd heard about armies of sorcerers before, but he’d never seen one in person; they looked like robots, stretched out for miles and miles, ostensibly guarding Phillip and Richards. Ambition and kingdoms weren't their game, they just liked picking off weaker travelers that strayed into their territory. The soldier nearest to them gave a loud battle cry, probably to draw the others' attention.  
Alex readied his sword as they charged.

"Armor's weak in the neck and chest," Nora reminded them.

"Not a fan of fire either," June pointed out.

"Oh, well, let me just whip out my handy dandy torch." Henry rolled his eyes. He was the first to meet the enemy head on, had it disarmed and down in two strikes. Alex couldn't help feeling a  
smug sort of pride.

"I've seen you whip out enough for one lifetime," June retorted, knocking back one of her own with a swing of her sword and a kick to its stomach.

"What the hell was your home life like." Henry grunted, elbowing one in the face before following it up with a slash across the neck. "That you think a bit of a peck is equivalent to 'whipping it  
out'?"

"Bandit kid." June shrugged. "Didn't really go all in for the whole displaying affections thing."

"So when a gentleman, what, waves at you, that'll get you going then?" Henry chuckled.

"Please." June snorted. "Says King I-Got-Laid-Zero-Times-In-Ten-Years."

"You don't know that. I had hundreds of offers. I could have spent every night a different man" Henry shot back, before catching Alex's alarmed look and quickly amending, "I mean I didn’t sleep— never anyone of importance— not to say that I didn’t respect them, but—"

"Can we talk about anything else?" Alex grunted as he disarmed a third soldier, not liking the conversational turn at all.

"Offers don't count," June retorted to Henry, ignoring Alex entirely, "You know how many men and women I slept with in the past ten years? Cause I sure don't, I can't even count."

"We ought to get you lessons, if you can't count higher than three," Henry said dryly, disarming a fourth, then fifth soldier in the space of a few seconds.

"Fuck you, it was at least twenty."

Nora and Alex exchanged a knowing glance. For all that June certainly had a way with people, twenty seemed a bit high. Alex gave a bit of a sigh as he refocused on his opponent. June and Henry at each other's throats was the very last thing he needed right now.

"In that case, perhaps we ought to forgo the lessons and have Bea check you for disease." Henry snorted.

"We can't all just fall in love with one person and trail after them the rest of our lives." June made a face.

"No, we can't." Henry delivered a quick two-strike his opponent, knocking them down before flashing a smile Alex's way. "Some of us are damn lucky."

"I still know more about the fairer sex than you ever will," June muttered at him.

"And I know more about the fair Alex than you ever will." Henry smirked at June in a particularly lewd way, who groaned in unison with Nora.

"Oh, gross—"

"Nasty—"

"What's wrong with you—"

"The images—"

"I'm starting to get offended here." Alex shot them a half-hearted glare, then an even fonder one at Henry. "Was that necessary?"

"Absolutely." Henry flashed him a quick grin before finishing off the final soldier definitively.

"Let's keep moving."

"June and Nora told you what?"

"Isn't it true?" Peter blinked up at Rafael, who was gaping at him a little as they made haste down the back staircase.

"Well..." Rafael eventually shrugged. "Honestly, just about anything's possible when it comes to Alex and your dad."

"So they are gonna get married?"

"It's...hard to explain."

"But they were kissing." Peter made a face. It seemed gross, but he also had it on reliable authority that was what people in love did. Harry had told him so, said his parents did it sometimes when they thought he wasn't looking. "Only people in love kiss."

"That's...uh." Rafael made a thoughtful sort of face. "Not really—well, it's true enough in this case, I guess—"

"So they're in love?"

Rafael didn't hesitate. "Yes, but—"

"So why wouldn't they get married?"

"Buddy, this is really not the time." Rafael hurried him along.

"When is the time?"

"When your dad is around to explain it to me, first," Rafael muttered.

"But June and Nora said not to tell him he was getting married," Peter insisted, "It's a secret, you can't tell—"

"I won't." Rafael smiled at him. "Secret's safe with me, Pete."

"Good." Peter breathed a sigh of relief. He could always trust Rafael to keep his secrets. "Thanks."

"No problem." Rafael patted his shoulder. Another explosion sounded, off in the distance but still enough to make Rafael's face cloud with worry and for Peter's mind to instantly jump to where his dad might be, if he'd been near. "Come on, Pete. We need to keep moving."

Peter obeyed, taking the steps two at a time. Daddy's words came back to him, about how in an emergency he'd need to be quick but quiet. He hadn't been doing that very well so far, but he tried now. The safe room really was safe, Daddy had helped design the defenses and Bea had warded it specially, but Peter still worried. Not that Rafael wasn't a great fighter, because Peter had seen him fight and he was amazing, but because he worried about Daddy, and Alex, and all the knights he knew were the first line of defense against these things. It had to be pretty hard to fight explosions with a sword and shield. His worry must've shown, because Rafael squeezed his shoulder as he led him into the room.

"Relax, kiddo, everything's gonna be just fine."

"I wouldn't make any promises."

Peter spun around in time to see someone he didn't recognize tapping a long staff tipped with a blue gem to Rafael's chest. They were just outside the safe room's archway, outside the protection of Bea's wards; Rafael tensed a moment, then his eyes went dark and hooded before turning a scary blue. Peter backed away, further into the safe room.

"Rafael...?"

"Afraid he's beyond reach." The stranger smirked, patted Rafael's cheek. "Peter, I presume?"

"What'd you do to him?" Terrified though he was, Peter threw up his fists defensively like he'd been taught. He remembered what Alex had told him about fighting people taller and squared his  
shoulders, lifted his chin up high. The stranger only chuckled, took another step forward. Peter backed away hastily. "You're that—the Richards guy, aren't you? The guy working with the guy who hurt daddy? Don't you try anything, I'll, I'll punch you in the face!"

"Feisty. A Windsor indeed." The stranger smirked. It had to be Richards, the person everyone kept talking about when they didn't think Peter was listening.

"I'm stronger'n I look." Peter grit his teeth to bite back the fear that rose with every step forward Phillip took. "I'll punch your teeth out! I will!"

"Aggressive, aren't you?" Phillip peered down at him, amused. "No need for all that. Your friend here is quite compliant, you see?"

"Your magic won't work in here," Peter snapped. The man looked like a shadow, dark and slippery as he advanced forward.

"I don't believe I'll need it." Richards waved a hand and Rafael darted forward.

Rafael elbowed him in the chest, knocked the air right out of him before he could scream red like he was supposed to, then got a hand over Peter's mouth before he could get his breath back. Peter tried to bite him but Rafael wouldn't let go, tried to kick him but Rafael didn't flinch even when Peter got him right in the junk. Rafael wrapped one arm steel-tight around his arms and middle, kept the other over his mouth, holding Peter forward like a present.

Fear shook him; Peter squeezed his eyes shut, tried to blink back tears. He liked Rafael, he trusted Rafael. He trusted all the knights, but Rafael was one of his favorites, always ready with a joke or a game, always willing to make time for Peter if he could. Rafael would never hurt him, Rafael would never hurt him, Rafael would never hurt him— Richards turned, exited the safe room with a quick wave of his hand to Rafael. "Come along."

Rafael hauled Peter out, following after Richards complacently. Peter tried to fight again, managed to free his mouth long enough to shout at them, "He won't give you shit! He'll just kick your ass like the rest of—mph!"

"Such language." Richards's lips twitched in something too sinister to be a smile. Peter sneered behind the hand Rafael had wrapped back around his mouth. "Not very bright, though. You really think there's anything your father wouldn't trade for you? Mm, I think not."

Richards crooked a finger, gestured for Rafael to follow him up and out of the underground area. An army of soldiers was waiting for them, looking like monsters unlike any Peter had seen before. Their faces looked like scaly skulls, hollowed but for their eyes, eerie blue eyes like Rafael's. He couldn't help a brief whimper before he bit down on his cheek to stop, but they didn't seem to have any interest in him. They parted as Richards pressed forwards, falling in line behind him.

He was dragged to the throne room, where another man, maybe Phillip, was sitting on the throne—Daddy's throne, not his —with a fascinated sort of look. Dozens and dozens of monstersoldiers filled the room behind them; one jostled Rafael, long enough for Peter wiggle an arm free and clock Rafael in the nose with his elbow. Rafael's hold wavered and Peter launched himself forward, struggled away and back towards the door. He was cut off by one of the soldiers, who snatched him up by the shirt and leered in his face. Between the utter betrayal he felt from Rafael and the sudden introduction to these men who wanted nothing but to hurt his father and him, fear shook Peter to the core and he couldn't help it, he burst out crying.

"Put him down!" Phillip demanded immediately, moving towards them impatiently. He grabbed Peter by the arm and yanked him away, adding with an air of disdain, "That brat's your meal  
ticket, you dull creatures."

"I-I'm not g-gonna do anything f-for you!" Peter tried to tug his arm free, but Phillip only scoffed, unmoved by his tears or his attempts to be brave.

"Sit down and stay silent," Phillip demanded, pointing to the ground by the throne before turning to Rafael and ordering with a smirk, "Fetch his father."

The way Rafael walked right through the army of soldiers should've said enough, but Henry was too concerned to consider it.

"Why the fuck are you not with Peter?" Henry paused only long enough to slice through one of the soldier's neck armor before ordering, "Get your ass back to the safe room, now!"

"Phillip's with Peter," Rafael informed him, oblivious or uncaring to the fact that Henry's entire world felt like it'd just bottomed out on him, "He has a proposition for you." 

Henry damn near dropped his sword, but pure, unfiltered rage kept him steady. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Raf?"

"It means you should follow me."

"I took you in when you had nothing," Henry hissed, "I gave you a family, a home, and you hand my child over to a murderer, you sick son of a bitch—"

"For fuck's sake." Pez elbowed a soldier out of the way, stabbing another in the gut before reaching him, "I don't know what you two are stopping to chat about but if you haven't noticed there's a couple things that might take priority here—"

"Phillip's got Peter." Henry's hands clenched so tight around his sword he could feel the muscle straining. "Because Rafael handed him right over."

"What the fuck—" Pez raised his sword to Rafael but Henry stopped him immediately. They killed Rafael now and there was no telling how Phillip might retaliate. Henry wouldn't risk that.  
"I'll go with you," he gritted out to Rafael, who nodded and turned on his heel.

There was no hint of smugness about him, no emotion at all, and if Henry could bring himself to think rationally for a moment past the building, blinding rage, there was something strange about Rafael's eyes. It could be magic. Magic would make more sense than a betrayal, Rafael had always been loyal to a fault and Henry had trusted him the way he trusted all his knights, but he couldn't be sure. He supposed it didn't matter yet. What mattered was getting Peter back, getting him to safety; everything else was secondary. If he had to kill Rafael to do it, he would.   
He hoped one of the soldiers would rush him, give him a reason to be violent and rid himself of even a bit of the building tension, but none of them did. As soon as they saw him follow Rafael, they parted around him. Disappointing. He'd have liked very much to stab something just then.Phillip would have to do.

Rafael led him to his own throne room, now filled with soldiers and a despicably smug Phillip, though all Henry had eyes for was his son. Peter was at the foot of the throne, hugging his knees and holding back tears. He seemed unharmed, thank god, no visible cuts or bruises, though he was clearly scared out of his mind. He looked terribly hopeful for a moment when Henry was led

in, before he crumpled in on himself when he seemed to realize the odds. Henry was an excellent fighter, but a hundred soldiers at once while a sorcerer held his son hostage and back-up was  
preoccupied was something straight out of a nightmare.

"How good of you to come," Phillip drawled, "It's been rather long, hasn't it? I don't recall receiving many invitations from you."

"You were never much fun at parties." Henry didn't tear his eyes from Peter. "How's this play, Phillip? What is it you want?"

"Seems rather obvious, doesn't it?" Phillip waved an idle hand at the throne he was lounging in.

"You want that ugly, uncomfortable chair, it's all yours."

"Don't be dull." Phillip's smirk soured. "You're only interesting when you use that brain of yours."

"I don't endeavor to be of interest to you." Henry dragged his gaze from Peter to Phillip. "Don't involve children, it's beneath even you."

"'Even me'?" Phillip rolled his eyes. "Such flattery. You really know how to get what you want."

"He's seven," Henry insisted, "That's too young for war games and you know it."

"Casualties younger than he litter history." Phillip sneered. The thought of that fate befalling Peter chilled Henry to his very core. "Don’t you remember what was taken from me? The right to be a king, stolen and given to my coward of a brother.."

"Given the life of a prince," Henry argued, "Given a family and a home—"

"Lied to!" Phillip snapped, "I was promised a throne—"

Henry switched arguments: "He's a child, for god's sake, think about what you're doing—"

"I've done plenty of thinking." Phillip stood, raising the staff he had in his hand. It was nothing Henry had seen him carry or use before, just a plain wooden staff, but Bea had told him about sorcerers enchanting certain objects to wield different kinds of magic so he remained wary. "My army has been ordered to lead your precious knights right to that door."

"Not a great plan, considering kidnapping their favorite prince was just about the quickest way you could've pissed them off."

"I'm sure they'll be very angry indeed," Phillip mused, coming down the steps to approach him,

"But how will your friends have time for me when they're so busy fighting you?"

Phillip leveled his staff at the center of Henry's chest. When nothing happened, he grew a little frustrated, stepped closer and tried again. Henry resisted the urge to sink his sword right into the smug bastard's chest. It would do him no good; even if Phillip died on the spot, there would be no chance of Henry getting to Peter before a soldier did. Phillip tapped him again, but still nothing happened.

"Performance issues?" Henry raised an eyebrow.

Phillip's expression darkened. He grabbed Henry by the throat, throwing him almost effortlessly aside. Stronger than Henry remembered, then. He caught Peter wincing, watching him worriedly, so he met Peter's eyes and mouthed it's gonna be fine. Even if he wasn't quite sure how yet.

"No matter," Phillip said, though the sour, displeased turn of his mood was clear. He stalked back up the steps to the throne, grabbed Peter by the cuff of the shirt and hauled him up. Henry clenched his hands into fists, felt his nails dig into his palms and reminded himself again that charging forward would only do harm. "Open the doors!"

The battle raged on just outside the doors, though his knights seemed to be holding up well. The soldiers fell back as soon as the doors opened, leaving the knights confused until they turned, caught sight of Phillip with Peter, Henry just down the steps. Henry could only see a handful of them, Zahra and Pez and Sam, but as soon as the soldiers stopped fighting others approached the doorway as well.

"Come in." Phillip gestured to them. When no one moved, Phillip smirked at Henry and gave Peter a rough sort of shake.

"Do as he says," Henry grit out.

The knights stepped warily into the room. Soldiers parted around them to make room, though they still hissed and flexed their claws, clearly displeased at being called off. Henry did a quick  
headcount; both his and Mike's knights were present, with the exception of Alex, June, and Mike himself. Phillip surveyed them as well, obviously searching for Mike.

"You go too far, Richards," Mike announced, glaring at the man sitting beside the throne as he stormed into the room, righteous fury written clear across his face.

"Mike," Henry warned. He was more furious with Phillip and Richards than even Mike could be, but he couldn't let his or Mike's rage jeopardize his son. Where the hell were Alex and June? He wasn't sure if he ought to be worried or grateful that they hadn't been rounded up.

"What honor is there in threatening a child?" Mike bristled, though he made no further move forward.

"What honor is there in stealing a promised throne?" Phillip sneered.

"Our father gave you more than you deserved—" Henry interjected.

"Enough of this." Phillip tightened his grip on Peter, slamming the staff against the ground for silence. "You'll be taken to cells. Resist in any way, and the boy will be the first of many  
casualties. Rafael, find our missing knights and explain to them that there's been a regime change."

"Understood." Rafael nodded once before heading for the door.

Before Henry could even realize what she was doing, much less stop her, Zahra snagged Rafael by the arm as he passed her.

"Let him go!" Henry ordered immediately.

It wasn't an attack, thank god; she only stared into his eyes a moment before Rafael broke the hold dismissively and continued on.

"Did you not hear me, Zahra?" Phillip hissed, digging his fingers into Peter's shoulder.

Peter winced a little, but kept his chin high. Henry was filled with both pride and sick, terrible fear. Peter didn't silence easily, but he hadn't said so much as a word yet. He'd already fought and failed, then, or Phillip had silenced him with a spell. Henry didn't like either option. Phillip seemed distracted by Zahra , so Henry caught Peter's eyes, mouthed, everything will be fine, I  
promise. Peter bit his lip and gave a small, slight nod.

"You've got Raf under a spell." Zahra met Phillip's stare evenly, a statement instead of a question.

"Loyalty is so very hard to come by these days, I rather prefer obedience." Phillip waved his hand to the soldiers. "Spell or spy, it won't matter much to you in the dungeons. Take them away."


	15. Chapter 15

"How come every time you get in a fight, I end up stabbed?" June complained, hissing as Bea put pressure on her arm.

"You're the idiot that thought charging four of them at once would be a good idea," Alex reasoned, "And it's hardly 'my' fight, this is our home—"

"Your home—"

"Our home," Alex repeated, "Unless you're planning on ditching me and running off into the sunset with Nora?"

"Like I could leave you here alone." June snorted. "I'd come back in ten years and you'd still be blushing at each other in the halls, shuffling your feet and postponing a wedding that should've  
happened a hundred fucking years ago."

"Seconded," Bea added before telling June, "This is going to hurt."

"Can't hurt worse than having a spear in my goddamn arm."

Bea's face said it all, though she vocalized anyway, "Yes, it can. Brace yourself."

June grit her teeth, grabbed Alex's hand and clamped down iron tight. "Go on, do it." 

Bea yanked the spear out of June's shoulder in one quick motion. June managed not to howl, though it seemed to take a hell of an effort and she nearly broke Alex's fingers in the process.  
"Next time, you're holding the chair," Alex muttered, flexing his hand to try and get the feeling back.

"Oh my god I fucking hate you so much why did we even come here god this was the worst idea you've ever had I can't believe I let you talk us into coming to this stupid fucking kingdom just because of—"

"Put your head between your knees," Bea advised as June grew close to hyper-ventilating.

"—some dumb childhood crush I swear to god if you don't marry that asshole and make this all worth it I will end you, Alex, I swear, oh my fucking god that hurt—" June kept talking, but it became incoherent as she finally shoved her head between her knees. Alex patted her back in a somewhat pathetic attempt at consolation. Bea leaned forward, pressed both hands over the wound. June swore louder and grappled for Alex's hand again. In spite of his threat, Alex offered his hand and June clamped down as Bea's hands glowed over June's injured shoulder. Alex watched in fascination as the skin grew over and the wound closed itself.

"That's amazing." Alex marveled at June's shoulder, good as new.

"Not fun for the patient." Bea glanced at June apologetically, but June was too busy hyperventilating and swearing a blue streak to pay any attention. "For most wounds it wouldn't be worth it, but regular recovery would take at least a few weeks and it seems like we need all hands available right now."

"We sure do." Alex nudged June with his foot. "You ready to get back out there?"

"Go fuck yourself," came June's strangled response.

"I—"

"If you make a joke about already having that need taken care of, I will punch you in the face."

Alex fell silent. June groaned anyway. Bea made a face. June saw it and waved a vague, noncommittal hand. "They're fucking again."

"June." Alex rubbed his forehead, not even surprised enough to be annoyed.

"That's..." Bea seemed to be struggling to find an appropriate answer, though she was fighting a smile. "Congratulations. When do you think the wedding might be?"

"Uh." Alex cleared his throat, looking anywhere except at Bea's genuinely, politely curious expression. "Well. Despite speculation to the contrary, we weren't actually engaged to begin with. So picking up where we left off doesn't necessarily mean...and there's more involved this time around, anyway, we're adults now and there's Peter to consider—"

"Right. Because the kid hates you, clearly." June lifted her head, rolled her eyes. "I can't imagine him ever wanting you to stick around. It's not as if you're his childhood hero, or like he begs to spend time with you or anything."

"He didn't exactly react well when he caught me kissing his father."

"Yeah." June gave him the You Loveable Fucking Idiot look. "Because you were kissing his father. No one wants to see their dad making out with someone, no matter how much they like that someone. I'm pretty sure it's against the laws of nature."

"Peter knows?" Bea asked.

"It's been a hectic couple hours." Alex sighed, glancing at the door. "And things haven't exactly settled down. Come on, Bug, we should jump back in."

"Fucking slave driver," June muttered, but he stood anyway and followed after Alex, "I just had a goddamn spear in my arm."

"And whose fault is that for running toward the spear?" Alex opened the door, waved his goodbye to Bea.

"It's the fault of the thing that shoved it into my shoulder, asshole!" June protested as she followed Alex out the door.

"I'm just saying if maybe you watched where you were going..."

"This wasn't some accident, I was the victim of a war injury!"

"That seems a little dramatic." Alex shrugged nonchalantly. "You look fine to me."

"That's because—and—" June sputtered, "Magic, you dick."

"I thought that was just hand-wavy bullshit."

"Handy hand-wavy bullshit," June admitted, "I'll give it that."

"June..." Alex narrowed his eyes at the deserted halls. "Where'd everyone go?"

The fighting hadn't reached Bea's area of the castle when Alex had hauled June in there a little while ago, but he should've at least been able to hear something. Further explosions, general battle sounds...something.

"Let me just ask Phillip." June mimed turning to him. "Hey, buddy, where'd your murderous army go? I could use another spear or two, my pal here thinks I'm not enough of a voodoo doll yet."

"Shut up." Alex bumped her shoulder. June must've really been in pain; she only got this sarcastic after the worst ones. "Listen. I can't hear anything at all, can you?"

"To be honest with you, one of them screeched in my ear about an hour ago and I've only been catching about half of what's going on since."

"The fighting's over." Alex frowned. It sounded like good news, but there was no way the knights had taken out all of the other army by now. He believed they were going to win, certainly, but not this fast. Something had happened. "Do you think there's such a thing as a locating spell?"

"The woman made the hole in my shoulder disappear, I'm not exactly doubting her right now." June shrugged, but followed Alex back down the hall towards Bea's chambers. "Why?"

"If we can find Henry, we can get to the root of what's going on." Alex knocked twice before re-entering. "Bea, you wouldn't be able to find Henry for me, would you? With some sort of spell, maybe?"

"I imagine he's probably wherever the most fighting is." Bea chuckled.

"That's the problem." Alex glanced back out the door. Still nothing. "We haven't seen or heard any. Is there anything you can do to locate him...magically?"

"Sure." Bea shrugged, stood and moved towards the back of the room to pull up a map. It had a rainbow of glowing dots, all populating—

"The dungeons?" Alex frowned, stepping forward to look closer for himself.

"The dungeons," Bea confirmed, concern all over her face, "If they were just taking Richards or anyone else to the dungeons—"

"There'd be no need for nine people." June's eyes widened. "They got beat? In the half hour we were gone?"

"No." Alex shook his head, frowned and stared at the map harder. He pointed out the small blue dot in the throne room. "No, not possible. That dot there, who's that?"

Bea startled, leaned in as if to make sure. "That's—that's Peter, he should be in the safe room, or at least with one of the knights—"

"That's why everyone's in the dungeons." Alex grit his teeth. "Richards and Phillip got to Peter."

"But he's only seven." Bea shook her head, stunned. "He's just a kid, would they really—"

"They would." Alex flexed his hand over the hilt of his sword. "Phillip's always been a piece of work and clearly time hasn't done him any favors."

They needed to go after Peter. Henry and the others were veteran sword fighters, Peter was just a boy; there was no contest, no matter how much the thought of leaving Henry in the dungeons without aid grated on him. Henry had asked Alex to trust him to handle himself, before. Now was the time to do so.

"Alex?" June eyed him. June would follow him either way, he knew.

Alex nodded once, sharply. "Let's get Peter."

"I'm going to kill your employee," Henry snarled to Mike, "Don't think for a moment that you're stopping me."

"He is deranged," Mike insisted, "I understand that he has wronged you most grievously—"

"Wronged me? Wronged me?" Henry slammed a fist against the bars between separating their cells, "He kidnapped my son!"

"He has lost his mind," Mike implored, "He shall face harsh judgment in our nation, I assure you—"

"From who?" Henry scoffed. "You pity him too much."

"I have no pity for him, but he is still one of our people. I don't have to understand him to care for him."

Mike gave him a meaningful sort of look. Henry blanched. "Are you really comparing Richards to Alex? Because I'll tell you something right now, if I ever so fundamentally misjudged him that he  
was capable of kidnapping and using little boys as bargaining chips in a war, I'd fucking behead him myself."

"It is not the same." Mike shook his head gravely. "I know that. Just as I know he deserves no mercy, but I ask it as a favor to me, Henry, not to him. Spare his life, nothing more. He will be kept in our dungeons all his life, that I promise."

"He wants you dead, you know." Henry sighed. He was still furious, but not with Mike. He stepped away from the bars, resumed his pacing.

"I know." Mike sighed and stepped away as well, the tension of their argument bleeding out. They were all still pumping with adrenaline and anger, being cooped up wasn't good for anyone. "It is  
not that I think his behavior will change; I have no doubt that it will not. I only wish not to see him dead."

Henry ran a hand through his hair, aggravated and tense and unable to stop seeing Peter's tear- streaked, terrified face in his mind. "If he hurts Peter, in any way—"

"The matter will lie in your hands," Mike swore, "I will say nothing."

Henry nodded once, concise. He didn't like it, but Mike was their kingdom's best ally and a personal friend. If no harm came to Peter...he could do Mike that one favor. Argument settled for the moment, he poked his head out to look a few cells down.

"Nora, you have any ideas where Alex and June disappeared to?"

"Last I saw them June took a spear to the shoulder." Nora nodded. "Alex said he was taking her to Bea, I bet they were stuck with her long enough to miss the roundup."

That was good. That was perfect; so long as they realized something was wrong before the opposition found them, they'd have the upper hand. If they were smart about it, they'd get Bea to track everyone down, find out where Peter was being kept and get him to safety.

"That's one thing in our favor, then." Henry glanced around. They'd all been thrown into separate cells, but between the lot of them they ought to be able to figure something out. "Anyone know how to break out of a dungeon?"

"Aren't they coming for us?" Shaan asked.

"They'll go for Peter." Henry shook his head. "If they can get Peter out of the way, we've got a fair fight against Richards and Phillip again and we'll have them on their asses."

"And Rafael?" Zahra caught his eyes. "He's under a spell, Henry. You can't hold him accountable."

Henry stifled the flicker of anger. He knew he couldn't, but that didn't mean he didn't want to.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. We can treat him as hostile without eliminating him, the question to focus on right now is how we're going to get to the keys."

The keys to each of the cells were usually kept on the jailers; in this case, Rafael had disposed of their on duty guards and taken the keys for himself. It was safe to assume he was just down then hall, monitoring the only exit.

"Do we need them?" Pez suggested, "Anyone know how to pick a lock?"

"Henry had me pick them, then improved them until I couldn't." Zahra shrugged. "Unless any of you think you're better lockpicks."

Silence all around. Henry sighed, tried to think of other escape plans, but nothing came to mind. Which he supposed was good, in one sense—he wouldn't want his dungeons to be easily escaped,  
under normal circumstances—but not particularly helpful at the moment. 

"Anyone got any big rocks in their cell, anything like that?" Nora kicked at the straw that constituted his bed. "We could bash the locks in."

"I don't know how they do it where you're from, but we don't usually leave our prisoners with tools to help them escape." Henry rolled his eyes.

"The bars and locks are cast-iron, regardless." Shaan shook his head. "Wouldn't work."

"I was just spitballing," Nora muttered, "I don't hear any of you shouting out any bright ideas."

"If you can win back your friend, he could let us out," one of Mike's men pointed out. Henry wasn't very clear on their names.

"Richards's magic is strong." Mike rubbed at his forehead. 

"Magic of the mind is...trickier, than suspension spells or other more physical things." another one of Mike’s said, "It's more invasive, but the resulting hold is more tenuous."

Henry scrutinized her. Her loyalties lay quite clearly with Mike, but her expression... "You were close to Richards."

"We talked," she answered stiffly, "Sometimes about magic."

Henry nodded, left it alone. Wasn't his business. Zahra peered out of her cell, questioned, "Do you know enough about it to know how to break mind control?"

"Only vaguely." she shrugged one shoulder, apologetic. "Disruptive forces of some sort. Strong emotion, perhaps?"

"Richards tried his mind magic on me earlier," Henry realized, "It didn't work."

"You'd already seen Peter, right?" she glanced at him. He nodded. "You hated Richards enough that he couldn't break through."

"Hm." Zahra glanced between them. Seeming to come to a conclusion, she leaned out of her cell, stuck her thumb and finger to her lips, and whistled loudly.

"What're you—" Shaan started.

"You were warned about noise," Rafael called from down the hall.

"Why should I listen to you?" Zahra scoffed loudly, "What are you going to do to me, exactly? You've used archery as an excuse for shoddy combat skills for years."

"Trying to rile me, Bankston?" Rafael leaned into the corridor. Henry waited for the smirk or the scowl, but it didn't come. Rafael's face looked almost alien without any of his usual attitude. "Keep talking, see how that works out for Peter."

"I'm just trying to get you to fight like a man. Threatening a little boy, is that really your style? Following orders, running around obeying Richards's every little wish...is that all you are, Luna? A lap dog?" A lone arrow sliced through the air, inches from Zahra's neck. A warning shot; she didn't flinch. "Shooting from where you're safe and untouchable, oh yes, you're a real man's man."

Henry worried for a flicker of a second she might've gone too far, that this brain-washed Rafael might go right ahead and shoot her for real, but then he heard the stomp of boots come down the  
hall. Henry tended to trust Zahra to know what she was doing, but couldn't quite see how antagonizing Rafael was supposed to help. Getting him angry couldn't really be enough to break the  
hold, could it?

"How about here?" Rafael challenged, coming to a stop in front of Zahra's cell and drawing a knife, "There or here, I can still—"

Zahra had him by the shirtfront before any of them could so much as blink, jerked him forward and slammed his head against the bars. He dropped like a rock.

When everyone stared at her, Zahra shrugged. "Disruptive force, right?"

"Not gonna lie, I'm more than a little turned on right now," Nora admitted, sounding somewhat in awe. When everyone gave her assorted incredulous looks, Nora scowled. "What? June would agree with me."

"Ignoring that," Henry decided, asking Zahra, "Did Rafael have the keys on him?"

"When is anything ever that easy?" Zahra muttered as she reached through the bars, rifling through his pockets. "No."

"Not much of a plan," one of Mike's men commented. Zahra narrowed her eyes at him.

"When Rafael wakes he might be himself and get the keys for us. If he doesn't, someone else I can take care of might come along to fetch him, and they might bring keys. Even if they don't and Rafael doesn't wake, then at least there's no one to report back to Richards when we escape. Or did you have a better idea?"

Nora grinned, leaned out of his cell. "Can we get married, or is there some sort of not-until-the- royal-idiots-get-off-their-butts rule?"

"That's enough, Nora." Henry cleared his throat, interrupting before Zahra could answer with her own, certainly equally pointed remark; he could practically hear it in her smirk already. "Don't,  
Zahra. Dungeons, escape plan, focusing—"

"Whazzat?" Rafael's head lolled, from one side to the other. "Zahra?"

"Raf." She bent down, reached a hand through the bars and placed it over his wrist. "You're going to be alright."

"You know that?" he muttered, almost unintelligibly, "Is that what you know? Have to...contain you, keep..."

"You have to level out." She squeezed his wrist. "We don't have much time."

"Why am I back?" Rafael was breathing hard, blinking rapidly like he was trying to focus. He'd watch Zahra for a few seconds then look around, distracted by something none of them could see. 

"How'd you get him out?"

"Disruptive force." She gave a small shrug, hint of a smile. "I hit you really hard in the head."

"Thanks." Rafael huffed a laugh. Then, almost immediately, any sense of humor drained away and he sat up, spun towards Henry. He lost his balance, scrambled a little but got to his feet and grabbed the bars of Henry's cell, gasped out, "Peter. Henry, Peter, I—"

"Don't do that to yourself, Rafael," Zahra warned.

"Your—Peter, I just handed him right to—" Rafael shook his head, still seemed fogged, unclear.

"Henry, I'm so sorry—"

If Henry had any doubts about his ability to forgive Rafael, they evaporated at the obvious, horrified shame and regret on Rafael's face.

"She's right," Henry agreed, reaching through the bars to take Rafael by the shoulder, steady him. "You shouldn't do that to yourself."

"Peter—"

"Is alive." Henry cut him off. "And is going to stay that way. Get the keys, get us out of here, and let's put a few arrows through that army of Richards's. Alright?"

Rafael glanced away, but eventually muttered, "I'd sleep better if I could put one through his eye socket."

Henry didn't miss the way Mike flinched, but he couldn't say he didn't whole-heartedly agree with Rafael's sentiment. Zahra smiled.

"Now you sound like you."

Alex and June took out dozens of of the soldiers before they were overwhelmed and hauled into the throne room. Even then they didn't quite give in, kicked and scratched where they could, goaded the enemy verbally when they couldn't get a hit in. When they were thrown to the floor in front of Phillip lounging in Henry's throne, they were bloody and bruised and still kicking, weary but not yet beaten. Not until they saw Peter at Richards's side; then they slumped, dropped their heads and grit their teeth but fought no more.

It was a hell of show, really.

"You'll join your friends quietly, I take it." Richards smirked, squeezing Peter's shoulder. Peter looked horribly disappointed to see they'd been found. Alex wanted to tell him it'd be alright, that this was all a part of the plan, but giving him any sign of hope could give them away to Richards. He played his part and looked away, did his best to look ashamed.

"I'm sorry, Peter." He meant that. He was sorry Peter had to go through this at all, sorry there wasn't a better way to save him than to temporarily dash his hopes.

Richards scoffed, pushed Peter's shoulder so that he would be seated on the ground beside the throne again, then waved his hand at the soldiers. "Take them to join their friends."

Alex watched carefully as they were hauled off, waiting for the signal. He tried to dig in his heels a little, drop his body weight, resist enough to slow them down without causing a scene or making Richards reach for Peter again. Then, just as they were about to be taken from the room, he saw it.

Peter disappeared.

Alex nodded to June and they both drew their swords, kicked away their guards and began to fight back. Richards's expression soured immediately and he rose up furiously, hands clenched into fists.

"Idiots," he hissed, "You think I'm afraid to use the Windsor brat against—" Richards grappled at his side for Peter, presumably to grab his arm or drag him up, but Peter was of course gone. Richards's expression would have almost been comical under less dire circumstances. He rounded back, stalking down the stairs and pushing the soldiers aside to beeline right for them. Alex was more than happy with that.

"How did you—?" Richards started to snap, but Alex didn't let him so much as finish the question before charging forward and swinging his sword right for Richards's heart.

Richards deflected with a burst of shielding magic, seeming to realize his disadvantage and backing off enough for the soldiers to step in and preoccupy Alex once again. Richards whirled around, looking for and not finding Peter, growing frustrated with every moment that passed. Alex couldn't help a smug grin. He and June were back to back now, outnumbered but not hopelessly so; they'd certainly battled far worse odds. More important than the odds, however, was that Bea had Peter. She'd turned him invisible and hopefully already had him out of the throne room and halfway back to the safe room by now. So long as Peter was safe, June and Alex could take care of the rest.

"You don't know magic." Richards narrowed his eyes at them, scrutinizing, trying to figure out what they'd done. "You're soldiers, idiotic muscle men- and women- you couldn't possibly have mastered any spells! What did you do with the boy?"

Neither June nor Alex broke stride to attempt a response. A little longer and they'd be finished with Richards's army, a little closer and they'd be fighting Richards himself. Richards didn't seem worried so much as furious.

"Where is he? I demand an answer! I am a king, you dull—!"

A loud boom echoed through the room as Bea appeared and unleashed a rippling burst of magic that slammed Richards back against the far wall. "Kind of a puny king, if you ask me."

"Bea, what're you still doing here?" Not that Alex was ungrateful for the help—though he certainly hadn't been expecting anything like that, he might've come up with a different plan if he'd known what Bea was capable of—but the area wasn't secure yet and Peter needed to be taken as far from here as possible.

"You were blocking the exit." Bea made a anxious, apologetic sort of hand gesture. "I need both hands to keep us invisible, I needed a clear path—"

"New plan." Alex maneuvered his way to Bea, hoisted Peter up onto one hip. Peter clung to him tightly, buried his face in Alex's shoulder. He was probably still scared out of his mind, but Alex unfortunately didn't have the time to try consoling him just yet. "I'll take Peter. You stay and—"

"What, me?"

"Yeah, just..." Alex gestured to where Richards was dazed and confused, trying to extract himself from the crater he'd made in the wall. "Get ‘em. You seem pretty good at it from where I'm  
standing."

Bea nodded slowly as her hands began to glow with that same energy from before. She advanced towards the army. "I can ‘Get em’."

"Come on, Pete." Alex hugged Peter a little closer as he forced his way through the crowd of soldiers, didn't let any of them near enough to so much as breathe on Peter. "Let's find your dad."  
Peter sniffled a bit and nodded vigorously into his shoulder. "Richards made Rafael take 'em to the dungeons."

"I'll bet you anything," Alex told him softly as they exited into the hallway, empty but for the dead and unconscious soldiers littering the floor. They had to be close to winning, Richards's army was dwindling fast now. "That your dad has already gotten free and is fighting his way up to see you right this very second."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. You really think that dungeon's enough to hold him for very long?"

"No." Peter shook his head, the beginnings of a smile forming.

"Heck no." Alex kissed Peter's temple. "Your dad fights dragons when he's bored, there isn't anything in this world that can hold him down if he wants to be up."

"Alex?" Peter asked, his voice going quiet as his smile faded.

"Yeah, buddy?"

"He's...is he gonna be mad?"

Alex was preoccupied worrying about June and Bea alone, about how Henry was faring in spite of his words, about how he himself would handle any more soldiers on the way with a child in one arm. His mind was going a hundred different ways while his eyes were on the hall ahead to watch for enemies; he missed Peter's expression, the way his voice dipped with worry, and assumed he was asking if Henry would be mad with Richards.

"Oh, furious," Alex assured, checking the corner before turning, eyes still focused ahead.

He startled when Peter burst into tears.

Peter just—just wailed, no words or build-up or anything, just sobbed loudly into Alex's shoulder and clenched Alex's shirt in both fists and shook with the force of it. Alex came to a stop for a  
minute, startled and concerned and entirely at a loss. His experience with children was essentially limited to Peter, who hadn't cried much around him thus far. The few times he had, Henry had dealt with it; Alex tried to remember what he'd done. Talk it out, right?

"Peter, what—are you okay? Can you use your words? Did I hurt you, or—?"

"I'm sorry!" Peter hiccupped, wiping his nose on Alex's shoulder pad. "I tried to fight, I did, I really did, but Rafael was so strong and I—"  
"Rafael?"

"—was gonna scream red but Rafael hit me so I couldn't breathe for a minute and then I thought if I did Daddy would come and get zapped too and I didn't know what to do I'm sorry please don't let Daddy be mad at me—"

"Peter," Alex interrupted and hugged him tight, insisting, "Your father is going to be nothing short of overjoyed to have you back safe and sound, I promise. He loves you and he is so, so proud of how brave you were."

"But—" Peter sniffled. "But you said—"

"He's going to be furious with Richards. I misunderstood your question, I'm sorry." Alex started to walk again, got them back on track. "That was my fault."

"But I didn't do what I'm s'posed to," Peter insisted dismally, "I'm s'posed to scream red if bad things happen and I didn't, I got taken and Richards used me to make Daddy listen—"

"That's on Richards," Alex told him firmly, "Not on you. Not one bit of this is your fault, Peter, and I promise you that your dad thinks the exact same thing."

"But..." Peter went quiet for a moment, then mumbled, "But Windsor men are s'posed to be brave. Not cry."

"Hey." Alex frowned sternly. "Who says brave men can't cry?"

"I'm not a man." Peter didn't meet Alex's eyes. "I'm just a boy."

"A little man, then." Alex brushed Peter's hair back with his free hand, the way he always saw Henry do when Peter needed comforting. "But a very, very brave one. Being brave doesn't mean you don't cry, Peter. Being brave means you get up and you keep going anyway, even when you're scared. You did that today. You were very brave."

"You think so?" Peter looked up at him with damp, hopeful eyes.

"I know so." Alex rubbed his thumb at Peter's cheek to wipe away the tears as he turned down the passageway that led to the dungeons. "Think you can be brave just a little longer for me?"  
Peter clenched his jaw a bit and gave a sharp, sure nod. Though he really had no right to be, Alex couldn't help feeling achingly proud of him. Though Peter was certainly his own person, he shared so many of Henry's best qualities; bravery, determination, heart.

"Alex? Peter?"

Alex had been distracted by his thoughts, so Rafael caught sight of them first, but that distraction turned fast to anger as Peter flinched at the sound of Rafael's voice. Alex didn't like the idea of  
putting Peter down, but it was better than the alternative. He gave a quick glance behind them— they hadn't been followed, all clear—before setting Peter down and advancing on Rafael.

Henry rounded the corner just two steps behind Rafael, saw Alex's intention and blurted out, "Wait, no, Alex, he's not—"

He was quick, but not quick enough to stop Alex from punching Rafael in the face.


	16. Chapter 16

"To be fair..." Rafael groaned, rubbing a hand to his nose. "I deserved that."

"He was brainwashed, he's back now," Henry explained to Alex belatedly.

Alex watched for injuries beyond the basic cuts and bruises, but Henry seemed fine as he stepped past Alex and Rafael and straight for the waiting Peter, who all but flung himself into Henry's arms.

"There we go, come here, baby." Henry scooped Peter up, pressing kisses to his cheeks and forehead, running a reassuring hand over his back. "Phillip didn't hurt you, didn't he?"

"I'm okay." Peter sniffled a little, burying his face into Henry's shoulder.

"My tough boy." Henry kissed Peter's hair. "You were so brave today, Peter, I'm so proud of you."

"Sorry." Alex offered a hand to Rafael, helped him up. He didn't feel overly apologetic— according to Peter, Rafael had hit him hard enough that he couldn't breathe—but Henry seemed to have forgiven Rafael so Alex let it slide as well.

"Like I said." Rafael accepted the hand up, gave a bit of a shrug as the others started rounding the corner. "Fair's fair."

"Beatrice and June are engaging with Phillip and his army," Alex reported to Henry, nodding in greeting to the others. "They're still in the throne room, as far as I know."

"Good. Mike, go retrieve your employee," Henry instructed, not taking his eyes from Peter as he stroked the boy's hair, hugged him closer. "If I have to do it, he won't fare well."

"Understood." Mike nodded, stepping past them. Alex was surprised Henry was letting Richards go so easily, but Mike stopped after a few strides and turned back with a contrite expression. Alex got the impression they'd discussed Richards’ fate beforehand. "This will not be forgotten, Henry. I know he doesn't deserve your mercy."

Henry gave a small, stiff shrug. "It wouldn't be mercy if it was deserved."

"I promise our next visit will be much more pleasant." Mike gave a somewhat bitter laugh.

"At least they're never boring." Henry grinned a little in return. "Just promise me no more poison arrows, I'm still sore from lying about that long."

"I promise." Mike extended a hand. Henry shook it, then waved him on.

"Go. I want that bastard the hell out of my castle already." Mike nodded, gestured for his knights to follow. Rafael rubbed at his nose, glanced after them before asking Henry, "Can I still put an arrow through Richards’ eye socket, or would that go against this mercy treaty thing?"

Henry shrugged, unconcerned. "I promised we wouldn't kill him, nobody said anything about maiming."

"Fantastic." Rafael hitched his quiver higher on his shoulder and took off after Mike and his knights.

The others trickled after him, stopping to squeeze Peter's shoulder or ruffle his hair, but otherwise just as eager to go cause a little damage before Richards was hauled away. Alex hung back. He was less concerned with landing a punch on Phillip and Richards than he was with checking in with Henry, making sure Peter was really okay. Henry bounced Peter a little, still stroking a worried hand over his back.

"S'you aren't mad?" Peter asked guiltily, not making eye contact.

"At what?" Henry lifted Peter's chin. "At how incredibly brave you were today? Not a chance. You did what it took to stay safe, that's all I would ever want."

"Alex said it's okay to be afraid." Peter glanced at Alex as he fiddled with Henry's collar. "He said you can still be brave as long as you keep going."

"Alex's a smart guy." Henry smiled, first at him then back at Peter. "Wanna hear a secret?"

"What?"

"I was terrified today."

"Nu-uh."

"Uh-huh." Henry kissed Peter's nose. "Big time. Nothing scares me more than seeing you in danger."

"I was scared for you too," Peter admitted, snuggling up against Henry's chest, "Even though I knew you were gonna win."

Henry laughed, met Alex's eyes above Peter's head. "Well, of course I won. I had you to fight for and knights like Alex to back me up, Phillip and Richards didn't stand a chance."

"You're alright then?" Alex stepped closer, squeezed Henry's arm lightly. Henry looked fine, wasn't limping and didn't seem to be having trouble holding Peter, but Alex still wanted to hear it out loud.

Henry smiled, likely reading his mind. "Hardly even nicked."

"Yeah you are." Peter frowned in worried disagreement. "Y'got a scratch right here, and bruise here, and a big cut there, and a really big cut there, and—"

"Alright, alright, slightly nicked." Henry conceded with a laugh, jostling Peter to get him to stop.

"But I came back much worse from dealing with that ogre's den, you remember, Petey? I couldn't walk for a month after that, this is nothing."

"You couldn't walk for a—" Alex tamped down the urge to swear. Peter was watching him attentively. "A month?"

"It was my own fault, really." Henry shrugged far too cavalierly. "Should've left well enough alone, but villagers from the kingdom over were complaining and that king was just sitting around doing nothing, like always—"

"It wasn't even for your own kingdom?" Honestly, at that point, Alex shouldn't even have been surprised.

"You remember Justin, don't you?" Henry made a face.

Alex certainly did. Justin had been the prince of their neighboring kingdom, arrogant and demanding at best. Every time King Arthur met with Justin's father, Henry had been expected to  
entertain Justin. To be fair to Henry, he seemed to give it a fair shot once or twice, but Justin harassed Beatrice, was jealous of Pez, and disdainful of Alex; it wasn't long before 'entertaining Justin' became 'pranking Justin mercilessly'. Alex couldn't imagine the kingdoms had particularly good relations these days.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"He hasn't changed." Henry scoffed. "His people already have to live with him as king, they hardly deserve to live in fear of ogres as well."

"So you investigated on his behalf."

"'Stormed' might perhaps be more accurate," Henry admitted. When Alex gave him a look, he protested, "What? The knights and I were bored, it'd been a slow week."

"I'd ask you to promise me you won't do something that insane ever again, but I think we both know that's not a promise you can make." Alex gave a tired smile, leaning into Henry a bit. Henry still had Peter in his arms and now was hardly the time or place—they were still under attack, by all technical definitions—but Alex wanted to feel Henry by his side, even just a little. "Promise me  
the next time you run off on whatever crazy scheme comes to mind, you'll at least take me with you?"

"Always," Henry promised, not thinking twice before leaning in and kissing Alex chastely above Peter's head. Peter made a grossed out sort of whine, planting his face in Henry's shirt.

"Now what's that for, huh?" Henry pulled back with a disgruntled noise, glancing down at Peter and kissing the crown of his head for good measure. "You like it when I kiss you, don't you?"

Peter pulled his face away from Henry's shirt, scrunched up his nose. "That's diff'rent."

"How so?"

"You're s'posed t'kiss me."

"Very true." Henry laughed. "But sometimes I'm supposed to kiss Alex, too."

"How come?"

"Same reason I kiss you." Henry kissed Peter's forehead for emphasis. "Because I love you, and I want to."

"I guess," Peter mumbled, "But you're kissing him more."

"Twice is hardly 'more'." Henry laughed again, kissed Peter on both cheeks and then the tip of his nose. "There, now you're certainly ahead."

Peter seemed to be trying his hardest not to smile as he leaned away from Henry a little, towards Alex, informing them seriously, "But you've still got more Alex kisses than I do, I need more Alex kisses for it t'be fair."

"Well, to make it fair." Alex nodded sagely, leaning in to press a couple of smacking kisses to Peter's cheeks while Peter giggled, pleased.

"Well, that's just disgustingly sweet." Alex glanced up to see June approaching with a good- natured grin, Pez and Nora on her tail. "In other news, Richards’ being hauled away by the Mike, there's a bunch of dead soldiers strewn across the castle, and Beatrice is terrifying. Seriously, what do you feed her and where can I get some?"

"Mike has permission, we can deal with the bodies, and Beatrice isn't someone you want to make angry, no," Henry replied with a laugh.

"What're our orders?" Pez spoke up.

"Go check in with everyone you can, get a head count—knights, guards, staff, everyone—then report back to me. Nora, get Beatrice to her quarters and make sure anyone seriously wounded sees  
her. June, gather the others and start collecting bodies, the sooner we clear them out the sooner we can put this mess behind us. Alex and I'll go with—" Henry was interrupted by Peter's yawn, his expression shifting from focused to conflicted. Alex glanced out at the darkening sky. It wasn't particularly late, but it certainly wasn't surprising Peter would be tired after the day he'd had. Still, Alex knew Henry wouldn't be willing to let Peter out of his sight anytime soon.

"You should put Peter to bed," Alex told him, "We can—"

"No," Henry said abruptly, looking startled, Alex had even suggested it, "What? No, that's—I'm not going to leave him alone barely five minutes after he—"

"I didn't say leave him alone," Alex corrected calmly, subtly touching his hand to Henry's back, "Stay with him. The soldiers are defeated and Phillip and Richards are gone, we can take care of the rest."

Nora cleared her throat. "We'll go see to your orders now."

Pez nodded in agreement, shooting Henry a smile. "But for the record, Alex's got the right idea. We can report the head count to Shaan."

"Seconded." June nodded too, then the three of them turned and went back off down the hall.

"I should help," Henry pointed out. For once, he sounded like he was hoping Alex would disagree with him. Alex leaned in, kissed his temple.

"You can't haul Peter around all night and we both know you're not going to leave him in there alone. We've got everything under control here, go put him to bed. And join him, you look exhausted anyway."

"And here I thought I looked battle-fresh and roguishly handsome." Henry tried for a grin, but it somehow just made him look even more worn out.

"They're not mutually exclusive," Alex pointed out with a smile, carding his fingers absently through Henry's hair. "The adrenaline's wearing off. Get some sleep."

"What about you?" Henry leaned into the touch.

"I'll be fine, I'm still—"

"I know you'll be fine. I meant when you're finished, you should come to bed with me. Us, I suppose." Alex glanced at Peter, already out like a light, careful not to hope for too much. "You're sure that's a good idea?"

"He's been begging for a sleepover for weeks, that's all he'll think of it. Unless you don't want to?"

Henry was teasing, but there was a subtle hint of concern and self-consciousness to it that never would've been there before. Regret flashed through Alex, brief but sharp, then he smiled and pulled Henry into his arms. The maneuver was a touch awkward, the sleeping Peter cradled between them, but it worked well enough that Henry could slump against his shoulder. Alex bent  
his head a little, nose pressed into Henry's hair.

"Do I even need to tell you how ridiculous that is?"

"I wouldn't be opposed to hearing it out loud," Henry admitted.

"The idea that I ever wouldn't want to share your bed, for any reason whatsoever, is absolutely ridiculous," Alex told him, "I love you."

"I love you," Henry echoed, tilting his head up for a kiss. As if Alex could ever refuse.

After a moment, however, he pulled away enough to tell Henry, "Go to bed or I'm carrying you there."

"You just like showing off all those new muscles for me," Henry teased.

"Entirely possible." Alex flexed a little for show. Henry laughed softly.

"Sir Alexander Gabriel Claremont-Diaz, King Carrier. It's got a nice ring to it."

"You think I won't do it?"

"I very much think you would, but ten minutes after an invasion isn't really the time for a king to be seen being carried around. Impressions of weakness and such."

"No one who's ever met you would mistake you as weak," Alex disagreed, but placed his hand on Henry's back and began to guide him along down the hall instead. "Though that's a fair enough point."

"You're really serious." Henry eyed him. "You think I should just go to bed? Like there aren't a hundred things to take care of, people to speak to, plans to make?"

"I think the knights can take care of most of it and what we can't will still be there in the morning," Alex corrected, "Mostly, I think you're exhausted—"

"We're all exhausted—"

"—and you have a child to tend to. No one would begrudge you that."

"I see right through you, Diaz," Henry hummed, "You're just trying to get me back in bed."

"It'd be a much more appealing prospect if I could join you." Alex glanced at the unconscious Peter, already drooling on Henry's shoulder. "Preferably alone."

"Only preferably?" Henry raised an eyebrow, teasing.

"Peter's a sound sleeper, isn't he?" Alex joked back.

"Not that sound of one." Henry laughed. "You're rather louder than I remembered."

"What, and you're quiet?" Alex grinned knowingly.

"It's my castle, I can be as loud as I damn please," Henry informed him.

"It's a nice change," Alex admitted. They'd always had to be quiet before, wary of being caught.

"It is," Henry agreed, catching Alex's eyes with a sly grin, "Though June might have had the right idea about thicker doors."

"A project for another day." Alex kissed his cheek, for no real reason other than that Henry would let him, that it didn't matter who saw, that he simply could. The way Henry smiled back at him, he got the feeling Henry knew.

They walked together back to the west wing, Peter not so much as batting an eye when Henry laid him on the bed. He made a sleepy sort of noise or two as they maneuvered him under the covers, but nothing more. Henry pressed a kiss to Peter's hair before straightening, eyeing Alex knowingly.

"You're hovering."

"A little."

"If they can manage without me, they can manage without you."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"More of an invitation." Henry stepped forward, hooking his fingers in the edges of Alex's armor.

"Considering the looks they were giving us when they left, I'm not sure they're expecting you back anyway."

"We're beginning to get a reputation." Alex leaned in, mouth just a breath away from Henry's.

"I can live with that." Henry began to unbuckle the clasps of Alex's armor.

"Look who knows how to remove armor now," Alex teased, "And here you always told me was too difficult for you to remove without my assistance."

Henry hummed. Alex could practically feel it against his mouth. "Removing it from you provides a much better incentive."

Henry finished with the chestplate, put it on the table. His touch slowed, his fingers lingering as he removed the rest. It wasn't quite sexual, just affectionate and appreciative as he'd catch Alex's eyes or trace his free hand over the back of Alex's neck, and Alex didn't need to hear a word to know how he was feeling. When Henry was happy like this he exuded it, put it into every gesture, every smile, every touch. He was just so genuinely glad Alex was here, and that...that was so much more than Alex deserved.

"I never dreamed you might have me back," he admitted quietly, "I thought...after everything, I can't tell you how happy I still am you'll even speak to me."

"I told you, darling." Henry smiled up at him, happy and tired and endlessly loving in exactly the way Alex didn't deserve. "I forgive you."

Alex dropped Henry's gaze. "I haven't—I don't deserve that, Henry—"

"Alex." Henry interrupted, his smile flickering to something softer, sadder. He cupped Alex's face, got him to make eye contact again. "I'm not saying I think you made the right call. Or that I'll completely forget it, or even that I won't still wake up half the time expecting you gone again. We're never going to have a blank slate. But that doesn't mean I can't forgive you, either. Love isn't about...seeking retribution, or working for atonement. Love is forgiveness, and I love you so much more than I'm angry with you. So if you love me too—"

"That's never an if—" Alex began, a little louder than he'd intended. Henry shushed him softly with a quick glance at the thankfully still very unconscious Peter.

"Then stop beating yourself up about it," Henry implored, catching his hand and lacing their fingers together, squeezing tight. "I was angry with you, as I had a right to be. But what kind of relationship can we have if you're always on your knees, always trying to earn a forgiveness you've already been granted? Do you really want to spend the rest of our lives so busy looking back that we never look forward?"

"Of course not." Alex thought of the ring hidden away in his things, thought of the hopes for the future he'd been trying so hard to keep tentative. He pulled Henry closer, insisted, "I look forward, Henry, I do. These past two weeks—before then, even—the future's all I've been able to think of. You and Peter are a family and I'm late to it, I know, but I—"

"You're here now." Henry ran his hands up Alex's chest, stroked his thumbs over Alex's jaw.

"You're here, we're together, we're happy, that's all that matters. We can still be a family, we still—"

It was Alex who couldn't stop himself from interrupting this time, in the form of dragging Henry forward by the waist and kissing him. Words had never been his strong suit, so he tried his best to pour all the hope and longing he couldn't fathom into quite the right words into the kiss instead.

Henry fisted both hands in Alex's mesh and didn't take so much as a second to return the enthusiasm. It was a while before they parted for anything more than air, but when they did Alex  
knew exactly where he wanted to pick up. Exactly where he always should've picked up.

"There aren't words for how happy you make me." Alex squeezed Henry's waist, held his gaze as he told him softly, "So marry me will have to suffice."

For half a second Henry's expression stayed perfectly frozen and Alex was suddenly, horribly certain he was dreaming. Then Henry wrapped both arms around Alex's neck and sank into him, kissed him with the kind of fervor Alex knew no dream could match. When Henry pulled back he didn't go far, just enough for Alex to see his damp eyes and wide, giddy smile.

"I asked you first, you know—"

Alex kissed him to stop his talking, fierce and tender at once. He couldn't give less of a damn who was asking and who was agreeing, so long as he got to keep this for the rest of his life. "Then my answer's yes."

"It damn better be," Henry's voice wavered again and his eyes were wet as he surged forward to steal another kiss.

"I love you," Alex told him when they parted, rubbed his thumbs up under Henry's shirt in comfort, "I love you so much, Henry. You know I wanted to say yes then too, don't you?"

"You might've had me worried for a couple years there." Henry tried for a laugh, but it came out somewhat choked.

"I've wanted to marry you since before I even knew what it meant," Alex told him, still running his hands over the bare skin of Henry's hips in reassurance, "You could've asked me at six where I'd be in a hundred years and I'd have said by your side. I'd have pictured us sailing the seven seas and rolling in piles of gold, but—"

Henry laughed, a real one this time. "You and that pirate phase."

Alex smiled, dipped his head until their foreheads touched. "Pirates, knights, kings, politicians, hell, bandits, I don't care. But it's always been you, Henry, and it always will be. I'm yours for as long as you'll have me."

"Forever." Henry didn't pause, just shook his head hard with a troubled look Alex hated to see.

"And if you ever disappear again—"

"Never—"

"—Peter and I are packing up and we're going to hunt you down if it takes another ten years, you're not—you can't—if we get married there's no backing out, darling, you can't do that to me—"

"Never." Alex kissed him once, twice, then hugged him close and repeated into his ear, "Never, sweetheart. I promise you I'm not capable of it."

Henry's hold tightened a little, but he nodded against Alex's neck. They stayed like that for a while, close and quiet and reveling in the moment for as long as they could have it. After some time Peter stirred in his sleep, made a soft, fearful sort of whine, and they parted to comfort him.

They sat along the edge of the bed, Henry reaching down to brush back Peter's hair soothingly.

"Phillip's gone, baby," he hushed, "It's just you, me, and Alex."

Peter was only barely awake as he looked between them, eyes half-lidded. "Gone f'rever?"

"Even longer," Henry assured, "Forever and a half."

"What's half'a f'rever?" Peter mumbled drowsily.

"Infinity," Alex told him. Peter blinked, sluggish in that sleepy sort of way, then nodded slowly.

"Okay." Peter yawned. "Sleepover?"

"Sleepover," Henry confirmed, kissing Peter's temple. "But go back to sleep, baby. We're going to change first."

"But it's a sleepover," Peter protested weakly, still only barely keeping his eyes open, "We gotta... we gotta stay up late, tell stories and secrets and stuff."

"Next time," Alex promised, patting his leg with a smile, "We're going to have plenty of sleepovers, Pete."

"But I got a real good secret," Peter told him, "June said— she and Nora, they said if I told you, Daddy would throw 'em off'a tower."

Alex and Henry exchanged a glance.

"Maybe we have time for one secret," Henry said.

"You hafta get in first." Peter shook his head.

"Can't you tell us now?" Alex asked. Henry just sighed as Peter shook his head again, more vigorously.

"That's not how you tell a secret." Peter frowned. "You have to pull the sheet up and huddle

together and whisper it, or it doesn't count. Didn't Daddy ever tell you any secrets?"

"Okay, Petey." Henry seemed to be trying to stifle a smile as he squeezed Peter's arm. "We'll get changed and get in, then you can tell us the secret, alright?"

Peter nodded eagerly, snuggling back into the sheets. Alex shot Henry an amused glance as they stood. Henry rolled his eyes, but Alex could see the hint of pink along the back of his neck. When  
they'd been younger, Peter's age and even a little older, that had always been their favored method of sharing secrets.

"And who taught him that, I wonder?" Alex whispered to Henry with a grin.

"It's rude to tease your betrothed," Henry informed him. Alex stopped suddenly, and Henry bumped into his back. "Wh—?"

Alex turned and kissed him, both hands cupping Henry's face as he hauled him in and kissed him until they were both entirely breathless. Henry laughed against his mouth.

"God help me should I use 'darling' and 'betrothed' in the same sentence."

"God help me," Alex disagreed, rubbing his thumbs over Henry's cheekbones affectionately.

"You kiss too much," Peter muttered into his pillow.

"We kiss just enough," Henry shot back, "You can close your eyes if you don't like it."

"Are you comin' t'hear my secret or not?" Peter complained, "It's a real good one."

"We're coming," Alex told him, admittedly rather curious about whatever secret June and Nora had thought was a good idea to entrust with Peter and his very large mouth. Alex gave Henry one more quick kiss. "I'll be back. My sleep clothes are still in Peter's room."

Henry nodded, started stripping down. Alex lingered a moment to watch as Henry's shirt came off, until Henry shot him a knowing grin and a little shimmy of his hips as he slipped out of his pants next. Alex turned away for both their sakes, moved to the bookshelf and tugged on the book that would make it turn. He went through—though, admittedly, not without glancing once more over his shoulder at Henry—and retrieved his clothes. He changed there and came back through the bookshelf. When Henry saw him already changed, he clicked his tongue.  
"Cheater. I showed you mine, what happened to reciprocity?"

Alex leaned in to kiss Henry's cheek, lowering his voice to a suggestive whisper, "I'll make it up to you."

"Now that's cheating," Henry said, but his wide grin ruined whatever disapproving effect he was going for.

"Come on," Peter insisted.

"We need to work on your patience, Pete." Henry sighed, but it was fond. He pulled back the sheets and scooted in next to Peter.

When Alex started to get in after him, Peter immediately protested to Henry, "No no no, it's my turn to be middle. You promised, remember?"

"I suppose I did promise..." Henry said slowly, clearly trying to think of a counterargument. Alex leaned close enough to kiss Henry behind the ear, then crawled over him and Peter to get to the  
other side of the bed. "Aw, no, Alex—"

"A promise is a promise." Alex bumped Peter's shoulder. "Right, Pete?"

"Right." Peter snuggled between them happily, already tugging the sheet up.

Alex helped him, got the sheet high enough that they could all scoot under. Henry was still… well, pouting was really the best word for it. Alex leaned behind Peter, got his fingers in Henry's hair and stroked through it. Henry relaxed a little, shot him a smile. Alex was starting to wonder if hair petting might be a Fox thing.

"You both hafta promise t'never ever tell in all of forever," Peter whispered quietly, the picture of dramatic now that he'd fully woken up, adding quickly with a look at Alex, "Or forever and inifity."

"Not in all of forever and infinity," Alex promised, subtly correcting him, "Cross my heart."

"And hope to die?" Peter glanced at Henry next.

"And hope to die, Pete," Henry confirmed, making a little x over his heart for good measure,

"What's your secret?"

"You're gonna get..." Peter whispered, pausing dramatically, "Married."

Alex and Henry exchanged an alarmed look.

"Peter..." Henry said slowly, "Were you pretending to be asleep before?"

"What?" Peter frowned, and they both breathed a sigh of relief. "No. Why?"

"What did you say before, about June and Nora getting thrown off a tower?" Alex prompted instead.

"They said some people have two parents," Peter explained, "And I said I knew that, and they said you'd make a good parent, and I realized that'd be the greatest thing ever so I was gonna ask you t'be, but they said not to do that or Daddy might throw them off a tower for telling, cause you've been engaged for ages and didn't know it. Except now that you know, you can get married before I grow up, right?"

Alex was speechless. After a moment, Henry managed to speak first. "June was right. I think I might throw them off a tower."

"No, you can't," Peter disagreed, "She and Nora're gonna be my aunts."

"That's not—I mean—" Alex rubbed his forehead. They were so obsessed with that. "They're not actually my sisters, Peter, you know that, right?"

"I know. But they said they're like sisters, so they're like aunts."

"If they want kids this badly they ought to go get married themselves," Henry muttered.

"June was gonna marry you but I told her she can't," Peter told Henry, turning to Alex with a proud smile, "I told him I wanted you t'be my other parent, cause you take me on adventures and teach me stuff and we could have sleepovers every day—"

"Go back, Peter, June said what?" Henry made a face.

"He said if you guys didn't get off your butts, she was gonna steal Alex's ring and marry you himself," Peter repeated dutifully. Alex sighed.

"That sounds more like Nor—"

"You have an actual ring?" Henry interrupted.

"Sort of," Alex admitted, embarrassed. There was a reason he hadn't gotten it before. Henry deserved better, and now that Alex was home again, he could afford better; he'd been hoping to buy a little time. "I'll show you later. Peter, why did June and Nora tell you about this?"

Peter tilted his head. "I don't remember. I went to ask them how come you'd sleep with Daddy and not me—"

"When did we—? Oh." Henry's neck colored. "Are you talking about earlier today?"

"Yeah. And they said Alex really liked me and that you guys probably just didn't know the bed was big enough—"

"Of course I like you," Alex assured.

"So you're gonna be my other parent?" Peter beamed up at him excitedly. Alex glanced at Henry, unsure of how Henry might want to phrase it to Peter, but Henry just shrugged back at him with a challenging sort of grin. "Well, are you?"

"I am," he told Peter, though it was Henry's eyes he met, "We're going to be a family."

"We are?" Peter's eyes lit up like it was Christmas come early, but it was Henry's soft smile that made Alex feel warm all over.

"We are," Alex confirmed, dropping Henry's gaze to smile at Peter, who was now wiggling his way into Alex's lap.

"Does that mean every night's gonna be a sleepover?"

"No," Henry said immediately.

"You can sleep with us every once in a while," Alex amended with a laugh, "Just not every night."

"Every other night?"

"We'll work it out." Henry tapped Peter's nose. "But that's a conversation for the morning, since it's getting to be officially past your bedtime."

Peter flung both arms around Alex and clung. "A little longer! You each hafta tell me a secret too, cause I told a good one."

"A very good one." Henry agreed, then extended his pinkie for Peter to shake. "One secret each, then we all get some much needed sleep. Deal?"

"Deal." Peter nodded vigorously, shaking Henry's pinkie. "What's your secret, Daddy?"

"My secret..." Henry mused, "Is that I think June and Nora actually wouldn't make half-bad aunts. They've been surprisingly good with you."

Alex smiled, but Peter just frowned. "That doesn't count, how's that a secret?"

"It's a secret because you can never tell it, I'm going to have too much fun teasing them." Henry fixed Peter with a look of pretend seriousness. "I mean it, Peter, you better cross your heart."

"Got it." Peter crossed his heart, though he still seemed dubious. "What about you, Alex? What's your secret?"

"My secret?" Alex thought it over. "My secret is that I snuck away from cleanup tonight to have a sleepover with you and your dad, and when I apologize tomorrow, I'm not going to be sorry at all."

Henry snorted a laugh. Peter's eyes went wide. "Are you gonna get in trouble?"

"Nope." Henry popped the p. "Alex here is the best cuddler in all the kingdom—nay, the world— and he's under official king's orders to cuddle you and me until we fall asleep to ward off any bad dreams."

Alex laughed. "King Carrier, King Cuddler, make up your mind."

"Sir Claremont-Diaz can be the King Carrier. Alex my darling betrothed can be the King Cuddler." Henry even had the audacity to bat his eyes.

"What, you think Peter's gonna stop me?" Alex challenged, leaning over Peter to wrap a hand around the back of Henry's head and bring him into a less than chaste kiss. They both ignored Peter's whine of displeasure.

"Aw, c'mon, no kissing in the fort!"

"Blame Alex." Henry grinned at Peter as they parted. "I don't have the slightest idea what got into him."

"You are such a liar."

"Ugh." Peter grunted decisively. Alex caught Henry's eye, then they leaned in together and both pressed as many kisses to Peter's cheeks as they could before Peter shoved them away. "Okay, okay, I get it, get off'a me!"

"If you want Alex farther away, maybe I should sleep in the middle then," Henry attempted. Peter mulled that over as he wiped his cheeks off. "No. It's my turn. Just cuddles though, no more kisses."

"Deal." Alex pulled the sheet off their heads and settled himself into bed properly, getting an arm around Peter and holding out his other for Henry.

"How is it that the seven year old gets to decide the sleeping positions, huh?" Henry muttered, but took his hand.

"Seven and a half of a half," Peter pointed out, only to follow it with a yawn.

"Seven and a half of a half. Yes, that makes it much better."

"Three decades, minimum," Alex told him, "And I want four."

"Three decade minimum on what?" Henry's brow furrowed in confusion.

"How long the sleeping positions in our bed are going to be up to you and me alone," Alex clarified with a smile. Realization, fond amusement, and a hint of amazement dawned on Henry's features. Alex leaned over Peter's head for one more kiss goodnight. "I love you."

"I love you too, Alex." Henry squeezed his hand, drew him closer so the three of them were all tangled up together. It wouldn't last the night, not the way Peter tossed and turned and the way  
Henry liked to go spread-eagle, but Alex couldn't ever remember being happier.


	17. Chapter 17

They agreed not to say anything for the time being.

Neither of them particularly wanted to wait, but the timing wasn't right and they both knew it. Phillip and Richards had attacked the castle yesterday; there'd been numerous injuries and a handful of casualties among the guard and castle staff, three explosions that had caused extensive damage to the castle, not to mention that most of the kingdom still thought Alex and Henry were "dead" from dreamshade poisoning. Now was a time to rebuild and set things straight. They could share their personal good news later.

Which, as it turned out, wasn't particularly hard to keep under wraps. The knights were horrifically hungover the morning after the invasion, because apparently they'd had the keen idea to go out drinking instead of assisting with clean-up. Henry formally chastised them, but couldn't really blame them. If he hadn't been so concerned with keeping an eye on Peter he'd likely have joined them. Regardless, they were too hungover to notice any subtle differences in Alex and Henry's behavior, and the part where the first serving hand to enter the room screamed bloody murder was a pretty effective distraction.

None of them were great people to surprise on an average day, but with yesterday's events still fresh in their minds the entire room went into defense mode. Most of them shoved up out of their  
seats, began reaching for assorted weaponry; Henry drew his knife with one hand and clutched Peter tight against his chest with the other, while Alex was already on his feet and shielding the  
both of them in the time it took Henry to blink. The serving hand gasped and staggered back at the room's response, but couldn't take her eyes from Henry.

"You're alive?"

Right.

That.

Pez was the first to start laughing, tossing his knife onto the table and dropping back into his chair to laugh uproariously. The others were quick to follow suit, return to ease and retake their seats. Henry patted Alex's hip to get him to move out of his line of sight. Alex glanced back at him, amusement in his features but relief too, and Henry shot him a smile to convey that he was grateful for the cover. The serving hand still looked like she might drop to the floor in a dead faint any moment though, so Henry quickly talked her down and explained their ruse.

The rest of the day was filled with bureaucracy, meeting after meeting about rebuilding the castle, strengthening the defenses, recasting the wards, on and on. Not to mention the two weeks worth of civilian meetings he'd missed, the ones no one had seen fit to sit in on for him. Which meant almost the entirety of Henry's afternoon was taken up by his citizens gushing to him about how happy they were he was alive, now if he could just fix this one itty bitty little problem of theirs that would be great.

Life had been much easier when he was dead.

Once the council found out he was alive that of course became a whole big thing, one where they felt the need to convene a four hour meeting in order to ascertain that he was indeed who he said he was. The one bright spot was when Henry left to get a moment's fresh air and found Alex just outside the council hall door, lying in wait to snag him by the collar and steal him away to the empty hall just two doors down. The council didn't find "talking to someone about castle matters, or something" a satisfying answer for why Henry had disappeared on them for over an hour, but Henry was fairly sure they wouldn't have liked the truth much better.

His day of bureaucracy slowly but surely turned into a week of it. His whole days felt like one long meeting, brightened only by Alex's continued efforts to sneak him away every chance he got. Henry was ecstatic over their fresh start and wouldn't trade it, but so much had changed between them—even unimportant things, like how ridiculously jacked Alex had gotten—that he could admit it was nice to have one comfortably familiar element at play. They already knew all the best spots to disappear to without getting caught, how affectionate they could be without crossing into suspicious territory, ways to touch each other without drawing attention; it was only the consequences that had changed. In the past, hiding their feelings hadn't been out of choice, but necessity. Now, the only fallout of people discovering they'd moved from "nebulously in love but unsure of our footing" to "extremely blissfully betrothed" would be that their engagement was awkwardly close to the invasion. The lack of any real consequences also meant they could toy with getting caught, link fingers only just barely out of sight, sneak kisses where people might happen upon them, guide each other with hands that dipped a bit low.

The only problem, of course, was Peter.

Deciding to keep quiet was one thing, but keeping Peter quiet was another entirely. It'd been less than a week, but every time Henry turned around Peter had someone pulled aside, busy telling  
them he had a great secret to share if they promised to keep it just between them. Alex was running great interference—he'd been keeping an eye on Peter while Henry was in his meetings,  
leaving Peter in anyone else's hands meant Peter would immediately try and bring them in on the secret—but couldn't be everywhere at once. In the end, they compromised and told Pez, Nora, and June the good news early, so they too could help corral Peter. Pez had swept Henry up off his feet in a hug; Alex said Nora and June's reactions had been similarly joyful. Henry couldn't help but feel relieved. He'd known that of course people would be happy for them, but the irrational part of him—the part that sounded suspiciously like his grandmother—had been unable to release that last bit of anxiety. Pez had been nothing but ecstatic for him though, told him what they all knew—that this was long overdue—and that he couldn't wait to be best man. Henry had ribbed him a little, said he wasn't sure yet who his best man ought to be. Pez'd put him in a headlock, and that had settled that.

Turned out, once Peter had people he was free to talk about the engagement with, he was impossible to shut up. According to their three babysitters—a word never to be mentioned in front of Peter, lest he pout for the rest of the day if not week—how much he wanted Alex to be his new parent was all he could talk about. June reported that Peter spent no less than two hours yesterday listing, discussing, and comparing the various names he could call Alex by, and had only stopped after listing "mommy" offhandedly and making June laugh so hard she hurt herself  
falling out of her chair. Henry figured she deserved it.

Peter came up with lists endlessly now thanks to Zahra, who he'd apparently seen making tons over the past month, lists of things to do and adventures to have and stuff for Alex to teach him.  
When Henry found that last particular list and pointed out that he himself was perfectly capable of teaching Peter everything on it—and had always intended to, thank you very much—Peter had  
only scoffed at him with a sass that frankly should've been beyond his years. Henry wasn't sure how he felt about that. Alex was pleased, of course, but Alex was pleased about pretty much everything these days, so that wasn't saying much.

Honestly, if anything was going to give them away, it would be the goofy-wide smile that had taken up permanent residence on Alex's face. He practically woke up with it already slapped on, and Henry would know; he'd woken up every day this week to that dopey, wonderful smile kissing him somewhere or another. Alex smiled when they kissed, when they talked, when Henry so much as looked at him, and often even when he didn't do any of the above. Nora had described him as "stupid happy", while Pez had gone with "creeping the hell out of everyone who doesn't know what's up". Henry teased Alex about blowing their cover, but Alex only laughed at him.

"What?" Henry leaned in, bumped his nose against Alex's.

"Nothing." Alex smiled again, wider this time, before cupping Henry's neck and coaxing him into a kiss. Henry gave in. They were alone in the room, a currently unused celebration hall, Henry  
curled up in Alex's lap. They had another hour until Henry's next meeting and Nora was watching Peter, they had the time. Henry could get an answer out of Alex after another kiss. Or two.  
"You don't think you're going to blow our cover?" Henry eventually persisted. Alex sighed, more fond than anything else as he ran his hands down Henry's side, hugged him closer.

"You know that if anyone does that it'll be you, right?" Alex bit his lip a little, trying and failing to keep from grinning. "Not that I mind, but Pez says you've been smiling so much these days that people think you've hit your head."

"Lies," Henry denied, though he couldn't help but realize he was smiling even as he said it, "You're definitely smiling more than I am, I haven't seen you without a smile in days."

"Nor I you." Alex chuckled, amused now. "Apparently you smiled while giving the construction team instructions?"

"Well, obviously I wasn't thinking about construction." Henry scoffed. "That's hardly my fault, construction is incredibly boring."

"And during a council meeting?"

"That was your fault!"

"And I'm more than willing to take responsibility." Alex kissed Henry's temple. "I'm just glad you're happy."

"I don't know what else you could expect I'd be." Henry huffed a little. They'd been over this; Alex was forgiven, Henry didn't wish to dwell on it all. Alex had said he accepted Henry's forgiveness, but Henry knew Alex didn't quite believe him, not yet. Henry hoped their vows might change that. For the moment, he rubbed his thumb along Alex's cheek. "You make me happy, Alex. You know that, don't you?"

"I might've figured it out." Alex pressed a kiss to the side of Henry's head, nuzzled his nose in Henry's hair. "I love you."

"I might've figured that out." Henry smiled into Alex's shoulder. They were both quiet for a little while, Alex running his free hand down Henry's side, Henry resting his head against Alex's chest and playing idly with Alex's fingers. Eventually, it was Henry who broke the comfortable silence.

"When, do you think?"

Alex knew precisely what he meant. "Soon. At least, I'd like it to be soon. I'm not sure I'd want to wait longer than another week. Not that sneaking around the empty halls like we used to isn't fun, but..."

"You thought it'd be different." Henry nodded, agreeing. "To be engaged."

"I can't say I pictured quite as much hiding."

"Nor I." Henry brought Alex's hand to his lips, kissed his knuckles. "A week between the invasion and the announcement should be plenty of space, I think."

"Absolutely," Alex agreed immediately, sliding his free hand up to the back of Henry's neck. He drew him a little closer, but didn't quite kiss him yet. "End of this week, then?"

Henry closed the gap and kissed him first, answering aloud superfluously, "Sounds perfect."

Though it was only three days until the end of the week, it seemed to drag on for ages. The people who insisted on meeting with him—primarily the council, the reconstruction teams, and assorted concerned citizens—seemed to realize he'd been telling some of them that he was meeting with the others when he had in fact been in no meetings at all, and started coordinating their efforts to pin him down. He was all but escorted from one session to another—which, really, he was the King, he'd be insulted if it wasn't completely warranted—and left with no chances to sneak off whatsoever.

It got to the point that he was almost grateful for Zahra ambushing him.

"You know he was brainwashed."

"Jesus!" Henry jumped, whirled around. If he hadn't recognized her voice he would've pulled his knife. "You shouldn't sneak up on me like that, we had an invasion last week."

"Call it practice for the next one." Zahra shrugged, dropping down from the ledge she'd appeared on. They were three stories up, but Henry didn't bother asking for logistics. Her ability to appear and disappear at will had saved their lives more than once. "You heard what I said."

"I did." Henry didn't pretend to misunderstand. "And I haven't dismissed him, have I?"

"No, but you haven't let him near Peter, either." To be fair, he hadn't let anyone that didn't already know about the engagement near Peter, but he supposed Zahra didn't know that. "Or given him a single task this week. You've given him nothing to do and he feels too guilty to bother you by asking—"

"I'm giving him the time he needs to sort his head out, having Phillip and Richards running amok in it can't have been fun—"

"That's not how Rafael operates and you know it," Zahra argued, "He needs something to do, or he'll just drive himself crazy. He's been beating himself up all week, Henry. Aren't you going to put him out of his misery?"

Henry meant to deflect again, but anger seeped through and the words fell apart on his tongue. What came out instead was, "He hit Peter so hard he couldn't breathe."  
No change in her expression; Rafael had told her, then. "It wasn't his—"

"My seven year old had someone he respects and admires hit him so hard he couldn't breathe," Henry spat out. He took a moment, calmed himself. "I know it was beyond his control. I know he feels like shit about it. I wouldn't—I don't blame him and I haven't once considered dismissing him from the knights, but right now seeing him just makes me want to punch him, and that's not good for anyone. I need—"

"You can punch me."

"Goddamn it," Henry swore, spinning back around to face Rafael. "What the hell is with you two and just appearing everywhere?"

"I mean it, Henry," Rafael insisted, stepping forward. He lifted his chin and squared his shoulders.

"Hit me. I won't move."

"I'm not going to hit you, Rafael." Henry rubbed his forehead. "Zahra, I don't appreciate being entrapped."

"Were you going to seek him out on your own?" She only shrugged a shoulder unapologetically.

"Henry, please." Rafael wasn't someone who used 'please' particularly often. He had Henry's attention. "I won't feel right until we're even again."

"You're not in my debt."

"No, but things don't feel right between us and you know it. You said so yourself, seeing me makes you want to punch me. I get that. So let's do it, get it out of your system. Alex got to, why shouldn't you?"

"That's a pretty good reason in and of itself," Henry acquiesed, eyeing Rafael's still swollen nose.

He hadn't known Rafael was still walking around with that. "Why haven't you gone to see Bea?"

"I'm not going to." Rafael's jaw clenched stubbornly. Why was it that everyone in Henry's life was so damn stubborn? "I deserve it."

"Now that's just stupid—"

"I do. Alex got me in the nose and Peter got me in the stomach—" Henry's expression must've soured, because Rafael quickly clarified. "Not then! Though he fought like hell then too, he's a tough kid and I mean that as a compliment, but I was talking about when I caught up with him earlier this afternoon, let him beat me up a bit—"

"You talked to Peter?" Henry asked sharply.

"Yes, but Nora and June were both there," Rafael assured quickly, "I wasn't alone with him for a minute, I promise—"

"That's not..." That wasn't Henry's concern, he didn't actually believe that Rafael would ever hurt Peter voluntarily, he'd been thinking of Peter spilling his and Alex's secret. "I'm not uncomfortable with you being around Peter, Rafael."

"I'd understand if you were—"

"I'm not," Henry told him firmly, knowing only as he said it aloud that he truly did mean it. "I trust you. If I didn't, I'd have already dismissed you from the knights without a thought."  
Rafael's brow furrowed. "You...really? You do?"

"It's not you I'm angry with, Rafael." Henry sighed. He knew that. He'd wanted a little time away from Rafael to get his emotions on the subject better sorted, but the two of them always had to be so damn insistent. "You're a good man who fell victim to a nasty trick, I know that. Phillip and Richards never did enjoy playing fair."

"So you're not going to punch me?"

"Can't say I'm not tempted," Henry admitted, "But no. And for God's sake, man, go get your nose fixed. King's orders."

"You're sure?" Rafael checked once more, though a smile was breaking on his face. Henry clapped his shoulder.

"Very sure. I'm getting a twinge of pain just looking at that thing. Alex sure didn't hold back, did he?"

"Not even a little bit," Rafael confirmed with a laugh. He paused, side-eyed Henry a minute. "So, if we're good, does that mean I can tell you that you need to marry the hell out of that guy, like,  
yesterday?"

"Seconded," Zahra put in.

Rafael really was a hard person to stay angry with.

"I can't say I disagree with you," Henry admitted with a chuckle.

"The other day, I caught him drawing you with a ring on your finger," Rafael informed him, "When I teased him about it, I swear, I've never seen anyone go redder in my life."

"Huh." Alex had told Henry about bumping into Rafael, even about Rafael teasing him for what he was drawing, but Alex had just said he'd been drawing Henry. He hadn't mentioned anything about rings being involved. Which Henry supposed wasn't exceptionally odd on its own, but it was occurring to him now that they hadn't discussed rings at all in the near-week since their engagement, despite Peter's slip about June saying that Alex already had a ring in his possession. Henry had brought it up twice before, intending to at least tell Alex the story of the one he himself had, but something had always come up before they could talk at any length. Could that have been purposeful on Alex's part? "Interesting."

"You at least have plans to propose, don't you?" Rafael insisted.

"It's not as if Alex will say no," Zahra pointed out.

"Very true," Henry agreed magnanimously, stepping around them. "You've given me something to think about, actually, now if you'll excuse me—"

"If you're proposing because of me, I get dibs on best man," Rafael called after him.

"Pez's had dibs for fifteen years, sorry," Henry called back. Pez had never actually called dibs, but Henry had known he'd wanted his best man to be Pez pretty much as long as he'd known he wanted to get married, so he figured that counted. "You can be our flower girl!"

Rafael made a rude gesture at his back.

"I'll put you down for a 'maybe'." Henry laughed.

Alex was supposed to be in training at the moment, but then, so were Rafael and Zahra. The training schedules were typically more suggestion than rule, particularly during busy weeks like this one. Henry had a sneaking suspicion he might find Alex loitering around where Henry was supposed to be just then, the meeting hall where assorted councilmembers and potentially the citizen's ambassador—though she'd missed a few meetings herself—were waiting on him. He headed in that direction, carefully steering clear of any of the people he was supposed to meet with. If they saw him they'd only wind up dragging him into the meeting, and Henry found he suddenly had much more important plans for his afternoon. As he'd expected, he found Alex waiting just a hallway away from his meeting.

"Hey you."

"Hey yourself." Alex smiled and stood when he caught sight of Henry, though he did look a touch confused. "You're sneaking out pretty early, was it that dull?"

"Didn't go in yet. Don't intend to." Henry approached him, took Alex's left hand. "I had an interesting chat with Rafael and Zahra."

"You talked to Rafael?" Alex stepped closer, put his other hand on Henry's waist. "How'd it go?"

"Unless he hands Peter over to another homicidal maniac vying for my throne, I think we'll be alright," Henry joked. His throat still felt a little tight at the thought, but he was getting better at not thinking about it too hard. Jokes were good, were a step up. Alex knew that, and he squeezed Henry's waist.

"That's great, Henry. I'm glad you're talking again."

"Yeah. Funny thing, actually—he told me about how he caught you drawing the other day." Henry squeezed Alex's left hand. "You didn't mention what you'd been drawing."

Henry could see the precise moment Alex remembered; he glanced at their joined hands, then tipped his chin up and drew in a breath. "Ah. That."

"For someone who apparently can't stop thinking about it, you don't seem all that enthused," Henry couldn't help noting.

"It's not that I—" Alex shook his head, moved closer into Henry's space as he rephrased himself.

"Don't think for a second I'm not incredibly enthused. I am. There's just something probably I ought to tell you, and it's a little...embarrassing, I suppose, so I've been putting it off."

"I knew it, you're already married," Henry joked.

"No." Alex laughed, raising both hands to cup Henry's face and draw him into a sweet, albeit far too brief kiss. "Nothing like that, I've just been trying to buy some time. June was telling the truth, I do technically already have a ring, but it's not worth much of anything. I'm not even sure if it's an actual wedding ring. I was just at this trading post, maybe six months after I'd left, and I missed you like a limb. You were all I could think about, and this ring in particular reminded me of you. It was your favorite colors, your kind of style...I couldn't resist. So I traded for it."

"Traded?" Alex had left the kingdom with barely anything; all but his most essential possessions had been left behind.

"Well." Alex cleared his throat, looking embarrassed. "Like I said, the ring itself really isn't worth much to begin with, but...I mean, I was so far from England, I didn't actually need the horse anymore and—"

"You traded a horse for a ring?" Henry couldn't help gaping a little. Then a lot, when something else occurred to him. "You stole Phillip's horse, I remember because it was one of the fastest we'd ever had, you're telling me you traded a royal thoroughbred for a cheap ring? What on earth possessed you? You didn't even plan on coming back to me for years yet—"

"It wasn't for you," Alex admitted. Henry couldn't help flinching.

"You said there hadn't been anyone else." It was meant to be an accusation, but Henry just felt like he might be sick. "You told me—"

"No! No no no, Henry, I didn't mean—it wasn't for someone else." Alex's hands dropped to Henry's waist, where he traced circles over Henry's hips like he'd always used to clandestinely if they were sitting near enough and Henry seemed to need reassurance. Alex kissed him, soft and slow, before explaining further. "It was for me. It's embarrassing in retrospect, but I wore it. Not because—I wasn't delusional, I knew we weren't engaged, but it reminded me of you and it meant people didn't try to flirt with me and it was just...easier. But it was just cheap consolation for myself, Henry, it's not a proper engagement ring. At least not one you deserve."

"You could tie a piece of grass around my finger for all I care, you know that," Henry assured him, cupping Alex's cheek and stroking his thumb there fondly. He should've known that was what  
Alex would get hung up about. "And I guess now I know why June and Nora keep insisting we've been engaged all this time."

"I probably should've worn it more selectively if I'd wanted them to believe me when I said it didn't actually mean anything." Alex ducked his head into Henry's touch. He smiled, soft and a little shy, and for a brief moment Henry saw the boy he'd first fallen for so clearly it was like looking through a window to the past. "I suppose I didn't really want to believe it myself, either. But I want to do better, this time. I've put you through so much, made you wait for so long...I want this one thing to be done right. To be perfect. You deserve—"

"Hey," Henry interrupted gently, because talk like this about what Henry 'deserved', like having Alex in his life wasn't better than anything Henry could've ever asked for, was a little too close to the talk from that awful letter Alex had written all those years ago. "Do us both a favor and forget about what you think I deserve. What matters is what I want and what I want is you, in whatever  
form that takes. I could give less of a damn about the rings. The rings, the ceremony, the people— they're all footnotes, Alex. What's important is you and me, making it down that aisle and saying those words and spending the rest our lives together. Right?"

Alex's eyes looked a little shiny, for the brief moment Henry could see them before he was pulled into a hard kiss. When Alex released him, after far too short a time, there were no signs of waterworks, but Henry smiled and rubbed his thumb along the corner of Alex's eye anyway. Alex turned his head and caught Henry's hand, pressed a kiss to his palm.

"You're right."

"Aren't I always?"

"More often than is good for your ego, certainly." Alex's smile was a warm contrast to his teasing words. He took Henry's hand. "Walk with me, I'll show you the ring."

"That could be one way to announce things," Henry suggested as he fell into step beside Alex, only half kidding, "Just start walking around with rings on."

"Rings?" Alex asked, "Have you got one too?"

"About that...you remember the part where I proposed to you first?"

Alex laughed. "I might, yes."

"Well, it wasn't quite as impulsive of a decision as it may have seemed at the time. The part where Phillip tried to kill me messed with my timeline a bit, but I'd been planning on it for a while," Henry admitted.'

Alex looked stunned. "You were? But your grandmother would've—"

"Done all sorts of things, I'm sure." Henry sighed, shrugged a shoulder. "I didn't care. You already knew that, I told you when I asked for your hand the first time that I would've run away with you  
in a heartbeat—"

"It's one thing to say on a whim that you'd run away, you used to do that all the time—"

"Not all the time—"

"I honestly can't remember a time my mother didn't keep the guest bed made up in preparation for your next attempt." It was true, Henry knew. Ellen had always been kind like that, and had always insisted he stay at least a night or two to blow off some steam and cool his heels a bit before returning home. "But you were actually planning on abandoning the kingdom?"

"Things are different now," Henry pointed out, "But back then? You were my only consideration. There were no children, no knights, no real responsibilities; we could've written to any of our other friends, though Pez would've probably moved to whatever kingdom we did. And my cousins would've taken the throne, or my second-cousins, or whoever else. Your mother was already passed and my family would've been the ones banishing us, so it wasn't as if we had ties to England besides my duty, and back then I just...I didn't care, Alex, you knew that."

Alex was quiet for a moment. Then, "I suppose I just always assumed it'd been in the heat of the moment. Not that I doubted you loved me, or even that if I'd said yes you wouldn't have followed  
through, just that...I don't know. That you hadn't really thought it all the way through. Or at all."

"I wanted to do it on our two years anniversary," Henry told him, linking their fingers together. They were in a public hallway now, anyone could stumble upon them, but Henry couldn't bring himself to care. The only people who didn't know at least a little bit about them by this point had to be so oblivious that they wouldn't notice the hand-holding anyway. "There was never a good moment, though. So I thought if I could get you to stay the night for once, then when we woke up together in the morning I could ask. I had...some line, I can't remember it now. Something about  
keeping you for all the mornings to come."

"Sounds like a hard line to say no to," Alex said softly.

"Mm," Henry hummed vaguely. He didn't want to examine too closely all the ways things could have gone. They were here now, here and in love and getting married just as soon as Henry could  
manage; that was enough. That was more than enough. "Long and short of it is, I had plans, which meant I had a ring. I kept it. I doubt it'll fit you now, but resizing it shouldn't be hard. I keep  
meaning to work on it, but—"

"This week's been crazy." Alex squeezed his hand with a smile. "I know. Could I see it anyway?"

"Of course."

Henry reached into his pocket. He'd been carrying it around with him in hopes he'd find a spare moment to work on resizing it, but hadn't yet found his chance. They stopped walking for a  
moment as he tugged it out and offered it up to Alex, who took it. It wasn't anything exceptional, just a smooth silver band, since diamonds had seemed both vaguely feminine and highly likely to get caught on things. Alex liked simple anyway. To make it special, Henry had engraved it. "darling," Alex echoed the word on the band, rubbing his thumb over the indentations.

"You know, just in case you ever forget." Henry leaned into Alex a little, rested his cheek against Alex's shoulder. "So will you be my darling betrothed, then?"

Alex spared only the briefest of glances at their empty surroundings before tucking the ring into his pocket and taking Henry by the waist, turning and backing him up against the nearest wall in a fervent kiss. Henry, who knew perfectly well what those particular words did to Alex's libido and had known precisely what he was doing when he'd said them, was ready for Alex's advance, met him with an open mouth and an eager tug of Alex's shirt. Alex hardly broke the kiss at all to give his answer—you know that I will—only parting long enough to say the words before kissing Henry again and sliding his hands up Henry's shirt to hold him closer. Henry gave a roll of his hips, and Alex groaned against his mouth.

There was a door behind them, Henry could feel the handle of it pressing into his back; he fumbled for it. He almost had it, when Alex did something particularly wonderful with his tongue and made Henry's train of thought derail entirely. It took another grind of Alex's hips against his for the handle to press into his back again, reminding him of it. He tried again, finally got it open this time. He stumbled a little as the weight of the door disappeared, but Alex hoisted him up without pause and moved them both into the room.

"Oh, god."

That...wasn't Alex.

Henry broke the kiss and turned in Alex's arms, to find they were now staring down the entirety of the council. And, look at that, the citizen's ambassador had shown up after all. Alex made an unintelligible sort of noise. Henry cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Am I late?"


	18. Chapter 18

Henry’s attempt at humor hung in the air awkwardly.

One of the councilors cleared their throat, suggested that it was possible Henry had forgotten something in his chambers. Another one muttered decency, perhaps? under their breath, but Henry magnanimously ignored that one. Alex didn’t seem intent on letting him go, either; he seemed frozen entirely, staring wide-eyed at the council like he’d encountered a room of trolls instead of a  
bunch of old, hypercritical assholes. Which was, admittedly, a lot worse than a room of trolls.

Henry gave him a subtle kick with the heel of his foot. Alex startled into movement, quickly unwrapping their arms and taking a good three steps away. He seemed undecided about making a break for the door or staying to help smooth things over. Alex didn’t need to stay for this bit, so Henry jerked his head ever so slightly towards the door. Alex raised his eyebrows just a little, a silent are you sure? and Henry gave a short nod. Alex looked relieved for all of a second, even took another half a step towards the door, before he seemed to realize something and stopped again. Henry couldn’t imagine why, until Alex glanced down pointedly, subtly ran his thumb over his ring finger. It was bare at the moment, but Henry knew what he meant. Alex was going to be running council meetings with him soon enough. Dashing out on his first— admittedly, extremely awkward—one wouldn’t be a great first impression. Henry gave a small, half-wave of his hand to gesture Alex back. He came and stood at Henry’s side, shoulders back and chin high, like he was about to enter into battle. It was kind of adorable. If he knew how much worse than a battlefield this would be, he wouldn’t have offered to stay.

“Sir Claremont-Diaz will be joining us today,” Henry announced, clasping a hand to Alex’s shoulder.

“Any questions?” Almost every hand at the table raised. “Good, no questions. Excuse our tardiness. Where were you?”

Councilor Hartley was the first to recover, filling Henry—and Alex—in on what they’d missed. Henry took his seat at the head of the table, while Alex went around to the other end where a handful of empty seats were still left. Henry didn’t like the distance. Personal reasons aside, it would be harder to signal Alex this way, and Alex had always had trouble keeping his mouth shut when he needed to. This absolutely constituted a ‘need to’ moment. The council was going to take a while to bounce back from that particular first impression, but if Alex was on his best  
behavior for a little while it would be easier for them to take him seriously in the long run.

Luckily, Alex was smart enough to know that too. Henry took to counting the number of times Alex’s lips pursed, or his eye would twitch a little, or he’d start drumming his fingers on the table  
like if he didn’t he might reach out and strangle whoever was speaking. Henry empathized deeply with the feeling. When head of agriculture started talking about the year’s low crop production  
and blamed it on the farmers, insisting they were doing a poor job or even skimming from the yield for themselves, Alex raised a finger. When all eyes turned to him, it was almost  
comic the way he looked at his hand like it had betrayed him.

“I...respectfully disagree with you, Councillor,” Alex managed, “We had a bad winter and little to no rain so far, that’s hardly their fault.”

“A qualified opinion, I’m sure.” The councillor's assistant rolled her eyes.

“As someone who’s worked in fields, I’d say I know a little about it,” Alex maintained.

“Worked in fields?” she seemed to find this distasteful. “You’re a knight.”

“I’ve been a lot of things,” Alex answered evasively, “I spent time abroad, and farmers always need help tilling land.”

“I’m sure that’s why you’re here, after all.” The councillor gave a derisive snort, voice heavy with innuendo, “For your knowledge of...tilling land, and such.”

“That’s enough,” Henry warned sharply. The room went silent. “The winter was bad and the production was low, seems like simple cause and consequence from where I’m sitting. Move on.”

Alex stared down at the table. They were too far for any sort of signal, though Henry tried to telepathically communicate to Alex that he’d been perfectly right to speak and that the head of agriculture was an asshole on the best of days. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded. The rest of the meeting went about as well as it typically did, a tiresome but unfortunately necessary requirement of his position, and they were out in just under four hours. Henry liked to think he and Alex were subtle about hanging back, but the way the financial advisor looked at him on the way out, he doubted it.

Alex stayed seated as Henry approached, and gave a grateful, weary groan when Henry started to rub his shoulders. “How many of these do you have a week?”

“About three or so,” Henry fibbed a little, digging his thumbs into the ridge of Alex’s spine just the way he knew Alex liked. Alex made a relieved noise. Henry felt guilty and amended, “...on a really, really good week.”

Alex laughed, but he just sounded tired. “You know, when you asked me to marry you, you never mentioned we’d have to attend so many meetings.”

“Well, if you’d said yes when I asked the first time, we wouldn’t have had to.” Henry teased, bent down a little to kiss his cheek. “It’s not so bad. Selective listening is key. Also impulse control, insomuch as you’ll need to control the impulse that tells you disposing of them all is a rational idea.”

“Are you saying it’s not a viable option?”

“Let’s call it a last resort.”

Alex chuckled, leaned further back against Henry’s hands and tilted his head up. “I’m not here simply because I...because I’ve ‘tilled your field’, right?”

“Certainly not,” Henry assured him with a grin. “You’re here because you’ve fucked me. And quite well, I might add—”

Alex laughed aloud, brushing Henry’s hands away and turning in his chair to insist, “Come on, I mean it. If I’m not useful at these things—”

“You are.” Henry took Alex’s face in both hands, tipped his chin up. “Your travels have given you more experience than anyone in the room, and you’ve got more empathy for the people beyond these walls in your pinky finger than any of these assholes have in their entire pompous, bloated heads. The politics of it is a little more tricky, but you’re a quick study, always have been. You’ll pick it up in no time.”

Alex only sighed. “They’re never going to respect me the way they do you.”

“Respect me?” Henry laughed, dropping his hands from Alex’s face.

“Darling, they can hardly stand me. But they know they can’t do a damn thing about me, short of having me assassinated, which I don’t doubt has crossed their minds—”

“Don’t talk like that.” Alex got both arms around him, squeezed Henry’s hip once in something like reprimand.

“Oh, they’d never do it,” Henry assured him, “They don’t like me and they certainly don’t respect me, but they have gotten used to me. And once they realize you’re here to stay, they’ll get used to you too. You’ll see.”

Alex smiled softly, stole a kiss. Henry wasn’t quite sure why until Alex pulled back to tell him, “You’re starting to believe me.”

“About?”

“That I’m here to stay.”

“Well, marrying me only to leave me again does seem a slight bit cruel for your tastes.”

“Told you I’d prove it to you.” Alex just smiled wider and kissed him again, soft and sweet and utterly perfect.

“Guess now that you’ve proved it you can start slacking off,” Henry teased, “Only telling me how much you love me two dozen times a day instead of three.”

“Blasphemy,” Alex murmured, faux-serious, his lips barely a brush away from Henry’s. “I would never dare.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Henry told him affectionately.

Alex brushed his thumb along Henry’s jaw. “I’m just trying to find the perfect words. I figure if I say enough, I might stumble upon them.”

“What sort of words are you looking for?”

“How you make me feel. How much you mean to me. How damned lucky I am to so much as have you in my life at all, much less to love you, to be loved by you—”

“I don’t need words for all that.” Henry curled into Alex’s hold, resting his head against Alex’s shoulder and pressing a kiss to the side of his throat. “Just stay with me, darling. That’ll carry more weight than words ever could.”

“I will.” Alex tightened his hold. “I promise.”

“You know, one of these days I’m going to get you to realize that I’m the lucky one,” Henry warned, “It’ll sneak up on you, too. I’m crafty like that.”

“The sun will fall out of the sky before I believe anything of the sort.” Alex laughed. 

Henry feltthe warm reverberation of it against his cheek, and knew the truth. He just smiled. “Whatever you say, darling.”

“Henry’s going to kill you,” Rafael assured her. “And not even a nice death, like a beheading, or a stabbing. He’s going to make it last, make it hurt—”

Zahra rolled her eyes. “Quit whining and toss me another garland.”

“I’m already on thin ice with the man, I really don’t think I should be participating in—”

“Garland, Rafael.”  
“Obviously I’m getting it for you, okay,” he muttered, handing her the last of them. Though the garlands were now finished, there were a hundred other things left to hang out or set up or  
whatever else before the church hall would be ready. Rafael knew full well he’d be helping Zahra with all of it, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t complain a little. “I just want it stated for the record that I’m officially not on board with this.”

“What sort of record do you imagine is being kept right now?”

“The metaphorical one,” Rafael dismissed her, “Not the point. The point is that when Henry finds out you stole his wedding, the wedding I should point out he’s apparently waited fifteen years for, he’s going to kill you gruesomely. And then me, for helping you decorate. And also probably for handing his kid over to a homicidal maniac, though that one’s my bad.”

“Bouquet.”

“What?”

“The large gathering of flowers I want to put on the ends of the—”

“I know what a bouquet is, Z, were you listening at all?” Rafael demanded, but handed over the flowers.

“I was. I just think you’re overlooking the obvious.”

“Which is?”

“That our King, who has many good qualities that do not happen to include excessive amounts of patience, has been waiting fifteen years to get married.”

“And?”

“And he’s really not going to care how it happens at this point so long as it happens and it happens soon.” Zahra paused, then admitted, “Also, they both have incredibly poor taste and deserve a better wedding than whatever eyesore they would wind up planning themselves.”

“You don’t think they’d enjoy their eyesore?”

“They’d enjoy a pigpen if they were finally getting hitched in it, Rafael, I don’t think their happiness is particularly dependent on color schemes. Mine, on the other hand...”

Rafael raised an eyebrow. “Is of course dependent on your longtime friend finding love and happiness.”

“And having a lovely, color-coordinated wedding to celebrate it, yes.” Zahra gestured for the next bouquet.

“Going to kill you,” Rafael reiterated, but retrieved it for her and handed it over.

“Please, he’s in too much of a love-stupor to so much as frown these days, he’s hardly going to kill me.” She scoffed. Rafael could admit that was kind of a fair point. “Besides, he knows full well I’m planning his birthday, it’s not my fault he didn’t ask what my theme would be.”

“And what are we calling this theme, exactly? ‘Wedding’?”

“I was thinking ‘Alex’, but ‘wedding’ works.”

“You’re throwing him a Alex-themed birthday.” Rafael snorted. Knowing Henry, that was probably his dream theme anyway. “Pez and Shaan are going to be pissed you didn’t involve them.”  
“Who said I haven’t? It was Pez’s idea in the first place.”

“June and Nora—”

“Are also fully aware. How do you think I got all the groomswomens’ garb fitted?” Zahra shot him a look. “They, and the others, will be here soon to help move the chairs and tables.”

Rafael paused, realization dawning. “Wait, am I the last to know?”

Zahra shrugged, unrepentant. “I haven’t told Peter yet, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Being lumped in with the royal blabbermouth does not make me feel better, no.” Rafael scowled.

“Stop being petty, you would’ve blurted it out to Henry the minute you saw him. We’ve been planning this for weeks now; you’d have been too excited to keep quiet that long.” She wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. She tugged a single flower out of the bouquet he’d handed her. It seemed just as pristinely white as the others to him, but she frowned and tossed it at Rafael. “You’re here now, go taste the cakes. And get rid of that while you’re at it.”

“How am I supposed to know what they—”

“Henry’s got a sweet tooth a mile wide, just pick whatever gives you the most cavities.”

“What about Alex?”

“I don’t know what he likes,” Zahra admitted, “But if Henry likes it, Alex isn’t going to say a word.”

It was true enough, so Rafael handed Zahra the last of the bouquets, placed the not-quite-perfect rose in the discard pile, and headed over to the banquet table. There were fifteen slices of cake lined up, ready and waiting. He took a bite of each, then a couple more—just to compare, of course—before landing on the seventh choice, a decadently layered chocolate cake that made Rafael’s mouth water just to smell. Pez entered the room just as Rafael was finishing up.

“White?” He snickered. “Are we sure that’s appropriate?”

“It’s traditional.” Zahra shrugged. “Besides, it’s more of an accent, we’ll overwhelm it with lots of royal purples and golds.”

“That’ll look nice. Hey, Rafael, good to have you on board.” Pez greeted him, observed the cakes. “Go for something chocolate, Alex doesn’t like lemon or strawberry and Henry thinks vanilla’s bland.”

“Already done.” Rafael held up his selection. Lacking a fork, Pez scooped a bit up with his thumb and tasted it, nodding his approval almost immediately.

“Good choice.”

June was next to enter, followed not long after by Shaan and Bea. Nora was on Peter- watching duty, but between the six of them and the guard members that came by to assist whenever they were off shift, the hall was decorated to perfection by sunset. Despite this, everyone was antsy; there was still plenty left to do, and just two days to do it in. It was Henry’s birthday, their wedding, and Alex’s sort-of coronation all rolled into one, after all, which seemed to mean there were three times as many things to prepare for and the event would need to be three times as spectacular. Three times the work could’ve easily been a drag, but everyone wanted so badly for things to go well that it really didn’t matter. Rafael, at least, would’ve worked ten times as hard if it meant giving Henry the kind of day he deserved. Alex was growing on Rafael, and the way he looked at Henry helped, but it was Henry who had gone out of his way for Rafael again and again throughout the years. He’d done it for all of them, without so much as a second thought.

When Rafael had first come to England, he’d had no noble seal, no official training, no connections; the only thing he did have was plans to steal from the royal treasury, which didn’t exactly count in his favor. Any other king in any other land would’ve banished him at least, likely even executed him. Henry had given him the chance to redeem himself—not even that, but to make  
himself greater than he’d ever been in the first place. Becoming a knight, pledging himself to a cause worthy of his loyalty, meeting and befriending the people who were now his family...Rafael owed Henry everything. They all did, in one way or another. The least they could do was plan a damn good wedding for the man.

Rafael was in charge of coordinating with the kitchen, which proved to be a much tougher endeavor than he’d imagined. It was apparently impossible for many of the kitchen staff to grasp the concept of not discussing menus with Henry, so roughly 70% of his job was grabbing wandering kitchen staff by the shirt, hauling them back down to the kitchen, and reminding them of all the creative places he could stick arrows into anyone who ruined the surprise. The other 30% was calming down the head chef, who went into a tizzy approximately every ten minutes about how what he’d previously started working on wasn’t good enough.

While Rafael dealt with that, the others were busy coordinating arrivals. Henry kept good relations with many neighboring kingdoms, kingdoms that would’ve been extremely offended to not  
receive invitations to such a monumentally important affair; as such, Zahra and Shaan had worked with James to craft and send official invitations weeks ago. They’d stressed the importance of  
secrecy and asked everyone who would be staying in the castle to arrive no earlier than the day before, but that still meant keeping Henry and Alex far, far away from the front entrance for an  
entire day, and keeping any guests in their rooms as much as possible.

Pez stole Henry, June handled Alex, and Catherine distracted Peter while Nora, Zahra and Shaan coordinated guests. All available guards were on guest duty; fetching things, bringing meals,  
anything to keep people happy and content right in their rooms so they could minimize potential collisions. When out of their rooms, Bea provided invisibility spells and used his map to make  
certain nobody’s paths crossed that weren’t supposed to. Mike in particular was being impossible; he insisted he needed to give Henry advice before the wedding, though Rafael had the sneaking suspicion from the look on Mike’s face it was going to be more of an I-told-you-so moment.

In spite of guest trouble and wandering kitchen staff, they managed to get to the day of without anyone blowing it too badly. Zahra accidentally left one of her four trillion lists within Peter’s view, but the poor kid misread her atrocious handwriting and thought “wedding plans” said “wendigo plans”. He did go running right to daddy, but it was only to ask if wendigos ate children  
or if he’d be safe. Henry wisely pointed out that if Zahra had plans, they’d all be safe. When Henry later asked about her “wendigo plans”, Zahra immediately answered with her plans for  
next Wednesday. It was one of her better saves.

The morning of, Pez and June had the hardest jobs of all; they had to somehow get ahold of Alex and Henry’s rings. Everyone knew the sentimental idiots had rings, even if they weren’t wearing them, but Pez and June both reported being unable to get the two to part with them for more than half a second. They’d tried the “let me look at it for a minute—oh, did you need it back? Haha y’know I forgot I was holding it at all” bit, the “are you sure it fits? Let me try it on— oops it’s stuck!” bit, even the “hold it, drop it, slip it into a pocket while ‘looking’ and pretend I can’t find it” bit, but nothing worked. On the last one, June complained that Alex caught the ring before it could even hit the ground, and Henry had seen it in Pez’s hand before he could slip it into his pocket. Eventually, Zahra grew frustrated with them and sent Rafael in. It was easy enough to figure out where they were keeping the rings, since neither of them could keep their hands out of a particular pocket for more than a couple minutes at a time. Rafael felt pretty bad pickpocketing them—Alex noticed while Rafael was still in the room that it was gone, and the look on his face was awful—but reminded himself that the payoff in a couple hours would be totally worth it.

He dropped off the rings with Catherine. They’d told Peter earlier that morning about the wedding, and keeping him far away from Henry had been a near-Olympian task since. Rafael admired Catherine’ endurance. When Rafael stopped by, Peter was busy describing what kind of walk he wanted to do up the aisle—he was thinking a march, apparently—and took only a brief second of amazed silence to look at the rings before switching over to talking a hundred miles an hour about how careful he would be with them, how he wouldn’t lose or drop them, to please please please Catherine just let him hold them for one quick minute?

At Catherine’ long-suffering, albeit amused absolutely not, Rafael laughed and quickly ducked back out. He met up with Zahra, who informed him that both Alex and Henry, who were supposed to be getting dressed for the “birthday party”, had now become utterly useless because they were busy searching high and low for what they would only say was, “something really important, just—don’t worry about it, okay, I’ll get dressed later, go away”.

This put the plan back about a half hour, but in the end, June and Pez were able to talk them into at least getting dressed and coming to see the party for a few minutes before returning to their searches. June and Pez escorted them individually to the ceremony hall, where they met up with Rafael and Nora. Zahra, the other knights, and half the kingdom awaited inside, but Alex  
and Henry were busy stumbling over themselves to guilty explain to the other about not taking this the wrong way and how they would absolutely keep looking and how this wasn’t indicative about anything. Thankfully, before either of them could actually say the words ‘ring’ or ‘lost’ and get confused about how they had both managed to lose their rings in the span of an hour, June and Pez shoved them through the ceremony hall doors.

They were greeted by near-deafening calls of surprise; Rafael hadn’t realized how many people Zahra had invited until that exact moment. Henry seemed pretty taken aback as well.

“This many people came just for my birthday? I’m more popular than I thought,” Henry joked under his breath to Pez, who clapped him on both shoulders and turned him a little. He aimed  
Henry’s gaze to the right, where the doors to the church hall were open and decorated in prelude of what was to come.

“Not just your birthday, H.”

Anything further seemed to die on Henry’s tongue. Beside him Alex inhaled sharply and glanced back at June, who grinned and nodded proudly. Henry was the first to regain the ability to speak, though his voice sounded a little rough as he asked, “Who?”

“Who’re you gonna marry? Well, we were thinking it’d be this idiot, but if you have someone else in mind...” June teased. The crowd laughed, while Alex elbowed her.

“No, who...who did all this?” Henry looked too touched to register any of it, instead glancing over to meet Zahra’s eyes. She tipped her chin in Pez’s direction.

“It was Pez’ idea.”

“Pez.” Henry sounded genuinely choked up now, something Rafael had never in all his years at the castle heard before. He threw both arms around Pez and pulled him into a tight hug. “Percy, jesus, I can’t even—”

“You don’t have to do a thing, H. Just...get hitched, already. Be happy.” Pez’s softer smile turned to a flat out grin. “And have a kick-ass birthday.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Nora announced, bumping Alex’s shoulder with one hand and raising her other to gesture to the band. “Let’s get that music going!”

“Remember,” Shaan called over the music, “One hour!”

“Have some appetizers, socialize, then find your seats,” Zahra agreed. The guests returned to milling about as the music kicked up again, seeming to know better than to approach Henry or Alex at that particular moment in time.

“We’re getting married in an hour?” Alex echoed, stunned. He stared at Henry, seeming both amazed and overjoyed, until he froze up suddenly in a way that would’ve had Rafael worried if he hadn’t then broken into the biggest smile Rafael had ever seen on a human being. Alex reached for Henry, stopped himself, then threw that to the wind as he realized their secret was pretty far beyond out by that point. He took Henry by the arms, smile still wide as hell. “Henry, we’re getting married on your birthday.”

“I guess we are.” Henry smiled back, pleased, but apparently not pleased enough for Alex, who shook his head and emphasized,

“Henry, your birthday is going to be our anniversary.”

Henry’s eyes went wide. Rafael still didn’t totally understand why that was so special, but it seemed to make them pretty happy if the kiss Henry pulled Alex into was any indication. He moved  
around the ecstatic couple to go find Zahra.

“You did good,” he told her. She shrugged a shoulder.

“It was Pez’s—”

“Idea, yeah. And it was your planning that turned that great idea into all this.”He waved a hand at their surroundings. The hall looked amazing, the appetizers were delicious, the guests were enjoying themselves and eager for what was to come; they still had a couple hoops to jump through, but the party was going to be a success and they all knew it. He knew she preferred the background, but that didn’t mean she didn’t deserve some acknowledgement for how damn hard she’d worked these past weeks. “You did good, Z.”

She smiled. “Thanks. Now all we have to do is get them down the aisle.”

“I get the feeling we’re not going to be particularly needed, there.” Rafael snorted, glancing back at them.

They’d separated, at least slightly, and were now being bombarded by guests though neither of them appeared to mind. They were holding hands, occasionally exchanging glances, smiling and  
squeezing the other’s hand like they couldn’t believe their luck. He thought it might’ve just been wedding bliss, until it belatedly occurred to him this was also probably the first time they’d ever  
been able to hold hands in public. They had only a moment before Mike all but tackled Henry and his and Alex’s hands were separated. Even from a ways away, Rafael could hear Mike’s booming laughter.

“Did I not assure you that you would find your happiness, my friend? You were always meant to return to each other in the end!” Mike said, rather smugly in Rafael’s opinion. Henry just laughed.

“I’ve never been happier to admit I was wrong,” Henry agreed magnanimously.

“This fool thought you didn’t return his devotion,” Mike informed Alex, somewhat cheekily. It was only when Alex grinned instead of taking offence that Rafael remembered he, like Henry, had also known Mike since childhood. “He’s clearly never seen how you look at him.”

“Clearly.” Alex agreed wholeheartedly, bumping Henry’s shoulder. “A fool indeed.”

“Hey now.” Henry huffed a bit. Alex leaned in and kissed his cheek, whispered something. Henry’s smile could’ve lit the whole room.

“It pleases me to no end to see you so happy, my friends.” Mike clasped them each by the shoulder. “I have hoped to see this day for many, many years.”

“You and everyone in all nine kingdoms, buddy,” Pez put in with a grin. “But you know who’s happiest of us all?”

“Me?” Alex and Henry said at the same time.

“That was nauseatingly adorable, but wrong.” Nora gestured to someone behind the door, and Peter shot around the corner like a bat out of hell.

“Daddy Daddy Daddy!” Peter flung himself into Henry’s arms. “You’re getting married!”

Henry laughed happily, scooped him up. “I guess I—”

“To Alex!”

“Pete, you knew—”

“In like an hour!”

“Sure seems like—”

“Right here!”

“Peter—”

“Today, right now, with me!” Peter held up his hands to show off both rings. Henry did a visible double-take, and Alex seemed to have to restrain himself from snatching them right out of Peter’s hands. “I’m the ring bear, I get to bear rings and be right there with you—”

“Where did—”

“—even though gramma said I don’t get vows, but I think I’m gonna make some anyway cause I’m a part of the family too and—”

“Peter, pause,” Henry insisted firmly. “Where did you get those?”

“Rafael gave them to gramma who gave them to me once we got here, but he says I have to give them back to him after I show you so I don’t lose them before the ceremony, cause—”

Henry extracted the rings from Peter’s iron grip, told him gently, “Honey, I love you, but these are very important and I’m going to hold on to them myself.”

“Sorry Hen,” Catherine intervened, “I believe the plan is to have them presented to you during the ceremony.”

Henry hesitated, hand still clutched protectively around the rings. “There’s no need for that, Alex and I just hold onto them, put them on ourselves when the time comes.”

“You don’t want me to bring them to you?” Peter’s eyes started to well up. “But that’s my only part, don’t you want me there?”

“Hey, no, of course I do, baby,” Henry shushed. “But these are very precious to me, I...” He glanced at Alex, who gave a small nod. Rafael would’ve missed it if he’d blinked. Henry turned to Catherine, reluctantly passing over the rings with a plea of, “Take care.”

“Of course, son.” Catherine smiled, before continuing, albeit trepidatiously, “I can’t imagine- I know I haven’t-”

“Mum,” Henry looked back at her, eyes shining, “I love you.”

An unspoken understanding seemed to pass between the two, because Catherine seemed to relax before saying, “I love you too, Henry. Many congratulations to the both of you.”

“Thank you.” Henry smiled back, giving Peter a squeeze. “And thanks for watching him this morning, I can’t imagine that it was easy.”

“He’s nothing compared to another persistent little fellow I used to know.” Catherine sounded amused, and Rafael thought she was talking about Henry until she continued, “Intent on being everywhere the prince was at all times, rules and schedules and everything else be damned. Could’ve knocked him over with a breeze, but couldn’t lose him if we’d tried.”

“I seem to have a vague recollection of someone like that.” Henry nodded, playing along with a grin. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, Alex?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.” Alex gave an innocent little hum, swaying into Henry so he could kiss his temple. Henry tipped his down up a bit, whispered into Alex’s ear something Rafael couldn’t catch. Alex laughed, whispered something back. Henry snorted. Rafael thought back to the night they’d recovered from nightshade poisoning. They’d had a few  
awkward moments, but by the end of the night they were nearly talking over each other in their enthusiasm to engage, finishing each other’s sentences and switching tracks quicker than anyone else could hope to follow. It had been strange and even confusing to see after weeks of defensive, passive-aggressive behavior, but Pez had been right. The universe really had been righting itself.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Find me at tumblr @itsbr1ghternow


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